


Deliverance

by Laurielove



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Drama, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Moral Dilemmas, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 12:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 85,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurielove/pseuds/Laurielove
Summary: Juliana has escaped the Greater Nazi Reich and been reunited with her sister. But on seeing a news report, she realises something is horribly wrong. She makes the decision to return to the Reich and do something unthinkable: to reconnect with the one person she hoped never to see again.Set immediately after the end of Season 2. John/Juliana. Slow burn. Characters and tags to be added as the story progresses to avoid spoilers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After ComicCon in July 2018, it's clear to me that Series 3 is going to move in a different direction to where this story moves (not that I ever imagined them having John and Juliana doing what they do here!). Certain characters I include as it progresses are most likely not going to feature in Series 3 (at least not how we imagine). This is most definitely a post Season 2 alternative alternative reality. We can still let our imaginations run riot - at least until October 5th!

When Juliana saw Trudy again, the first thing she did was hold her. She held her and felt her realness.

And then they stood, still clasping the other, and stared out across the water. There were so many questions, so much to answer, but for the time being it was all too vast, and so for now there was silence.

And after that, still in silence, slowly, arm in arm, they found a small bar, lacking customers, undistinguished, but enough.

They ordered coffee but when it arrived neither felt much like drinking it.

Trudy stared into her cup. Juliana stared at her sister. She felt that if she took her eyes off her for an instant, she would disappear again. But she didn’t. The enormity of it all overwhelmed her, and so she said nothing, and just stared.

‘You don’t have to keep looking at me.’ Trudy took a drink, and already Juliana detected the edge of sibling annoyance. She smiled. How easy a return to the familiar seemed.

‘I do. I need to make sure it’s you. It is, isn’t it?’

‘Of course it’s me.’ Trudy glanced up, almost put out. She stared hard back at Juliana and narrowed her eyes. ‘You look different. Your hair …’

Juliana self-consciously tugged a stray lock around her ear. ‘Yeah, well …’

‘What have you been doing?’

She sniffed out a laugh. ‘The last time I saw you …’ The last time she saw her, her sister had been lying dead in a pit of rotting corpses. Juliana took a staggering breath. ‘The last time I saw you, you gave me some reels of film. And that … that is what I’ve been doing.’

Trudy frowned. ‘I don’t remember that.’

Juliana was halted in her thoughts. She tried to sort them, to order them in some way but found herself unable. ‘Never mind.’

 _The enormity of it all …_ She licked her chapped lips and closed her eyes with a fractured sigh. ‘I don’t understand. Anything.’

Her sister’s warm, soft hand reached over and clasped hers. Juliana looked up and met with her eyes, the same eyes she’d first stared into as Trudy lay wrapped in a swaddling blanket in hospital. ‘Yes, you do,’ said Trudy. ‘You’re the only one who does. You’re the only one who knows what it’s all about, or at least who remembers what it’s all about.’

Juliana tightened her grip on her sister’s hand. ‘What is it all about, Trudy?’

Trudy held her gaze, almost confused that it wasn’t obvious. ‘Love. It’s all about love, Juliana.’

And for the first time since seeing her sister again, Juliana felt tears brimming.

The TV was on, flickering and fizzing above the bar. It disturbed her. It annoyed her. She glanced up. The relentless staccato of the news theme pounded its way unbidden into her awareness. Juliana lowered her head but the metallic commentary of enforced GNR propaganda callously penetrated the quiet of the bar and her eardrums.

_‘The return of a hero. After his brave and extraordinary mission to expose the corruption at the heart of our glorious Reich, Obergruppenführer John Smith today triumphantly returned to New York to tumultuous praise and accolades from all.’_

Juliana darted her head up. There he was, stepping off the rocket, uniform crisp, gait determined, face grave.

 _Grave._ Not proud, not relieved, but grave. Something started pricking at her, deep inside, a tugging, tingling wrongness.

She wanted to turn away, she wanted the barman to switch it off, but something compelled her to listen, to watch, to stare.

Trudy looked derisively at the television over her shoulders. ‘Fucking Nazi filth.’

‘Sh.’ Juliana hushed her sister quickly.

 _‘Having helped prevent war of an unprecedented scale,_ _Obergruppenführer Smith is now regarded as the second most important man in the Reich, Himmler’s right hand man, a glorious achievement for an American who has risen from humble beginnings to become a beacon of pride and salvation for the people of the Greater Nazi Reich.’_

Juliana watched as Smith shook hands with his staff. Grave, solemn. _Distracted_. That was it, distracted. She watched. Her heart was racing, although she didn’t notice.

‘Someone needs to take a bullet to that son-of-a-bitch’s head,’ murmured Trudy, clanking her cup down.

‘Shut up.’

‘What the hell, Juliana? What the hell?’ Trudy’s face twisted in disbelief.

‘I said shut up.’

_‘Obergruppenführer Smith wasted no time in hurrying home to his loving wife and family who are sure to treat him to a hero’s welcome of their own. We salute him and all he has achieved to crush our enemies and to keep our great Reich safe.’_

There was footage of Smith arriving home, that same home which had grown so familiar to Juliana in recent weeks. A pang of something dashed through her – a longing, a yearning she tried to bury.

But she could not take her eyes off him, off the way he stood, the way he walked, the way he looked. This was not the John Smith she knew. This was not the John Smith who was returning a saviour.

He didn’t pose, he didn’t smile. The door opened and there was Helen and beside her in the doorway their daughters. The three of them there to welcome him in, but their faces as solemn as his. He walked up the path, almost jogging as he reached them. He did not turn for the camera; he walked straight in without looking back and the door was shut.

‘Where’s Thomas?’ muttered Juliana, standing up, still staring at the screen.

‘What?’ asked her sister, confusion making her almost spit the word.

‘Thomas wasn’t there. Where’s Thomas? Where is he?’ Juliana continued muttering to herself, panic rising with bile into her throat.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Something’s wrong. Something’s happened.’

‘Juliana. You’re making no sense. What the hell’s the matter with you?’

‘I have to go back.’

‘What the hell? Back where?’

‘I have to go back.’ She glanced around, unseeing, trying to gather her things, trying to make sense. Something had happened. Something terrible had happened, she knew it.

She rushed around to her sister and hugged her tight before reaching into her bag and handing over as much money as she could spare. ‘Get a job, a room. They’re cheap here. Stay here, lay low. I’ll leave messages at this bar if I can. I’ll sort it out. Stay safe. Don’t do anything, just don’t do anything. I have to go. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have to go.’

‘You are kidding me. You are fucking kidding me.’

‘Trudy … I’m sorry … trust me … remember what it’s all about.’ And with a final kiss on her sister’s cheek, she rushed from the bar.

 --xxoOoxx--

Juliana caught a bus but got off at the last stop before re-entering the Reich. Then she walked. For hours, through woods and over hills, she walked until she knew she was safe inside. And then, using every ounce of her wits and deception, tucked into the corners of buses and trains, she evaded detection to work her way back to New York City. It took time, and sometimes her hunger made her doubt and her exhaustion made her shudder, but when she was on the outskirts of the city again, in the most unassuming suburb she could find, she found a public telephone.

Her fingers trembled as she dialled; her mind trembled when the staccato voice at the end answered.

‘Command Centre of the Greater Nazi Reich. Your business?’

‘I need to speak to Obergruppenführer Smith.’

‘Who is this?’

‘I need to speak to him, please let me speak to him. It’s a matter of extreme urgency.’

‘I need to know who this is. Nobody is to be put through to the Obergruppenführer before he knows exactly who it is.’

She couldn’t give this person her name, neither her real name nor the name Julia Mills. She wracked her brain and remembered a time, a time when she had sat in fearful silence and waited as he stood above her, tall, indomitable.

‘Tell him I’ve … tell him that I have a broken wing.’

‘You have a broken wing?’

‘Tell him! Please.’

She thought he’d hang up on her. The seconds seemed to tick away and she expected the clunk of the line going down at any moment, but instead: ‘Hold the line.’

She did, relief pouring through her. It did not take long. Only a few moments later the line clicked, clicked again; she was being transferred. Juliana closed her eyes and clutched the receiver, her breath hot and muggy against it.

‘This is Obergruppenführer Smith.’

His voice.

‘John, it’s Julia.’

‘Juliana Crain.’

‘Yes.’

He didn’t say anything else, but she could hear the faint hush of his breath through the earpiece.

‘Where’s Thomas?’ It was the only thing that could be said.

He did not reply.

‘What’s happened? Something’s happened, I know it has.’ She gripped the receiver so hard her knuckles blanched.

‘Where are you, Miss Crain?’

‘Somewhere.’

‘You’re being sought in connection with the abduction of Lucy Collins and the deception and coercion of Henry Collins.’

‘I know.’

‘When they find you, they’ll kill you, under my orders.’

‘Where’s Thomas, John?’

He paused. Silence. Then: ‘I can’t speak.’

‘I left but I’m back in New York.’

‘Why?’

‘Because of Thomas.’

Another pause.

‘Thomas isn’t here.’

A sob rose suddenly from her which she was unable to stifle. And another. She staggered in a breath to control her emotion. He said nothing. She steadied herself, unsure what to say next.

‘You know the meeting house where Adler’s funeral was held?’ His voice was smooth and precise, even now.

‘Yes.’

‘There’s a lake nearby. At the far end the geese gather.’

‘I know where.’

‘4 o’clock Sunday.’

He put the phone down.

 --xxoOoxx--

Juliana dressed down. Scarf, raincoat, head down, always head down. She had nowhere to stay, nowhere to go, her money was running out. She was wearing the same dress she had on the day she’d killed George Dixon, the grey one. She covered it tightly, clutching her coat about her.

She approached the lake and walked to the corner he’d directed.

It was a few minutes before four. There was nobody else about except for an old lady and her beagle. They’d ambled on by the time she reached the bench. She glanced about then sat, barely, forward, tense.

Nobody. It was four o’clock. Still nobody.

She wasn’t sure what she would do. If he didn’t appear she would not last long in the city, she knew. If he did, she may not last long anyway.

‘Miss Crain.’

She spun around. He was there, effortlessly there and real. Not in uniform. He wore a long trench coat with a hat pulled down over his brows. She stood up automatically as if at school.

‘Sit down.’ She did so immediately and hated herself even more. He had a way of compelling compliance from her.

He came and sat beside her. She dared a glance at him. He was tired, his eyes were heavy, his skin drawn.

‘Thomas isn’t here,’ he said, and there was the slightest crack in his voice as if the veneer of control too had cracked.

‘What happened?’

‘Is there a reason why I should tell you, Miss Crain?’

He fixed her with his eyes and she swallowed hard. She had no loyalty to him, did she? No reason for trust to be exchanged between the two of them? Was he expecting a swap, a deal? She had none. So she gave only her humanity.

‘Because I like Thomas … very much. Because I care.’

He studied her some more and she read conflict in him for the first time. The veneer did indeed have cracks. He stared at her, his nostrils flared as he breathed deeply, his eyes wide as he forgot to blink.

But still he gave no response. He leaned forward and studied his hands, rubbing them together distractedly. She focused on them as he did. Long fingers.

That burn inside was too great, the need to know, to discover, to eliminate the uncertainty even if it was too painful.

She sucked in a breath and spoke. ‘I killed a man. I killed a man for Thomas.’

The heavy eyes fixed on hers again, surprise making the pupils widen momentarily.

‘He was my sister’s father and I killed him. George Dixon.’

‘The man in the alley?’

‘Yes.’

He fell silent, turning to stare out over the water as his mind tied together the pieces. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘He was Resistance. He had a tape, a recording of Thomas and …’

‘And you. My son came to see you at your apartment.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve seen it.’

‘You knew? You knew I was aware of Thomas’ condition? But … why … why haven’t you …?’

‘Why are you still alive?’ He turned his head to look at her again. Her silence confirmed his query. ‘I had to go take care of some business elsewhere. And … perhaps … perhaps, Miss Crain … you do care.’ And for a moment, she felt his humanity. Unbidden, a ripple of warm satisfaction crept into her. She tried to shake it off, to fight it.

He continued, ‘How did this man Dixon have a copy of the tape? I was told there was only one.’

‘He wired the building. He was the electrician.’

‘Ah. A lapse. It’s the little chinks which bring us down, Miss Crain. We cannot allow the little chinks to spread.’

‘He was going to use it to expose you. He was going to take it to the Reich and show them that your son, your own son …’ Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t say it out loud as the consequences of it were too tangible.

‘And you shot him for that?’

‘Yes, I shot him. I shot him in the back as he walked away from me.’

Silence gathered again, but her attempts to cast off the curious sense of alignment which was occurring between them were in vain. Her breathing had steadied, her pulse settled. For the first time she had ever known him, she did not feel afraid. A goose pushed itself from the water and flapped its wings, sending ripples out across the lake which landed with gentle lapping splashes on the bank.

‘Where is Thomas?’ she asked softly.

The briefest of pauses.

‘He handed himself into the health authorities two days ago.’

Her heart, which had beat so calmly, stuttered. Her stomach heaved and she brought a hand to her mouth to catch the sob which burst from it.

Juliana, who had learned to cope with grief with powerful tenacity, now felt a wave of sorrow wash over her with such force that could not stop from gasping it out. She was almost ashamed, because the boy’s father sat beside her, calm, controlled. But when she turned to look at him, to find some hope in him, she saw the redness of his own eyes, the dark shadows from sleepless nights, the skin stretched tight with despair.

‘But … what …? No, no, no, please no.’ Her sobs were uncontained.

‘Now that I am so … elevated … he did not want to bring shame to our family. And so he did that.’

‘But … John, please, no, please … Is … No … Is he …?’

‘Is my son dead?’ John Smith sat forward, rubbing his hands together compulsively. ‘I don’t know. I do not know.’

As the immediate response of disbelieving horror passed, a numbness took hold which went beyond reaction. She sat quite still, staring at the ripples, rhythmic, unceasing. She resented their continuity, their simplicity.

‘How long have you known about Thomas’ condition?’ John asked.

‘Since your friend’s funeral. He … he had an episode, but I was there and … with Helen, we were able to hide it.’

She felt him turn to her, heard the surprise in his tone. ‘Helen was aware that you knew?’

‘Yes.’

‘She didn’t tell me.’ Juliana had no answer to that.

Silence fell between them again. One goose pulled itself laboriously from the water and waddled up the bank, ungainly compared to its elegance while on the lake.

‘Why did you collude in the coercion of Henry Collins and the abduction of his wife?’ he asked.

‘I had no choice.’

‘There’s always a choice, Miss Crain.’

‘I needed to get out. I needed to stop the normality of it all.’

‘And that was enough to destroy the lives of people who had only shown you kindness?’

She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I needed to get out. And then … they threatened me, some members of the Resistance. They tried to kill me. Believe me, I did not want him to get hurt. I don’t want her to get hurt. Where is she? Lucy? Is she safe?’

‘We found her, yes.’

‘Thank God.’

‘We found her in a park, bruised, clothes in tatters. They’d raped her.’

And another wave of emotion crashed over her at the hopelessness of it all. Juliana threw her head back and wailed. ‘There’s no one, no one, no one. Nobody. The only one, the only person I saw a glimmer of true goodness in, of complete innocent decency … was Thomas. And that’s why I did it. That’s why I do it all.’

She stared up at the sky, blurry from her tears, like some washed out French painting she saw in a book once as a child, and she cried.

‘I don’t believe he’s dead. Not yet.’

Immediately, she spun to him. ‘Then you must do something. You must find him and bring him back. You can do that. You’re the most powerful man in the country. You can do anything you want.’ She wanted to grab hold of him, grip him and shake him.

‘I can’t do anything I want. Now, more than ever, I will be watched, I will be scrutinised. If I so much as put one foot wrong…’

‘But you must, you must!’

‘Oh, I will … I will do something, but …’

‘What?’

‘You’ll do it with me.’

‘What?’

‘They take cases … like Thomas … to the border with the neutral zone. That’s where they assess, that’s where they … finalise. I need to go there, but I’m unfamiliar with that area. You know it. You’ll come with me.’

‘But …’

‘I need to sort one or two things before we go. Return to your apartment for a day.’

‘I can’t be seen here any longer. It was madness coming back.’

‘You seem to forget who I am, Miss Crain. I’m the one who issued the warrant for your arrest. I’m the one who can revoke it. We’ll say there was a mistake, that it was another woman talking to Henry Collins, a woman who will be arrested. And your case will be closed.’

‘A woman will be arrested? What woman?’

He pouted and gave the faintest shrug. ‘Does it matter?’

‘But what will happen to her?’

‘She’ll die, of course. And your guilt will die with her.’

‘You can’t do that.’

‘Would you rather it was you?’

She closed her eyes against the reminder of his reality.

He continued, ‘Just now, you mentioned the funeral – my ‘friend’s funeral.’

‘What about it?’

‘Do you know how my friend died?’

She shrugged. ‘His heart, I thought.’

‘I killed him. While he sat quite calmly beside me on the front seat of his car, I killed him.’

She swallowed back the acid forming in her mouth.

‘I poisoned him with the same syringe he’d given me to use on my own son. I came close to doing it, Miss Crain. Killing my son. But instead, I murdered a man who had been a friend of my family’s for many years. And then I gave an oration at his funeral. And do you know, Miss Crain, I have no qualms about that whatsoever. No guilt. None. Does that surprise you?’

She shook her head, holding the tears at bay. ‘No. Nothing surprises me anymore.’

‘That’s right. It doesn’t, does it? And that’s why you’re coming with me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts. x


	2. Chapter 2

John Smith placed his case down in its usual place by the bottom of the stairs. He took off his hat and let it drop onto a chair, the same routine every time he returned to the house. To all appearances his home was exactly the same, all so familiar, all so comfortable. But now it seemed to lack actuality, lack tangibility, like a fading image of a past reality.

It was quiet. The girls were staying with Helen’s sister, Jane; they had been since his return from Berlin. He stood still in the hallway, his senses attuned, listening for movement.

‘Helen?’

There came no answer. He turned into the living room: empty. John cast his eyes over the space, looking for indications of his wife’s day. No open newspapers, but an empty Scotch glass sat on the coffee table. His shoulders stiffened.

He turned away and called again, louder: ‘Helen?’

John walked through to the kitchen. His wife was sitting with her back to him. She didn’t turn around.

‘I’ve been calling for you.’ He waited for an answer. ‘Are you alright?’

She gave no response but raised something to her mouth. She was drinking from a crystal tumbler.

He came round and stood looking down at her, trying to be flippant. ‘Isn’t it a little early for that?’

‘Don’t,’ she spat contemptuously and took another drink.

His eyes darted around and fell on the bottle of Scotch on the counter. It was two thirds empty. He’d only opened it himself the night before.

‘How much have you had?’

She fixed him with a ferocious glare. ‘I said, don’t, John.’

‘It’s five o’clock in the afternoon, Helen. That bottle was full last night.’

‘Speaking of which … pass it to me …’ She looked up contemptuously and sneered, ‘ _Please_.’

He sighed and pulled out a chair. ‘I think you’ve had enough.’

‘You … are not in a position to lecture me.’

‘No, but I can see when things are not good.’

‘Not good? _Not good?_ My son – is – _dead!_ ’

His heart stuttered at the stark reminder and his jaw clenched involuntarily. He stared at his wife’s face, blotched with tears, reddened from alcohol.

‘He’s not dead.’

‘How do you know? You don’t know everything, John, as much as you like to think you do. They’ll have taken him, tested him and … eliminated him.’

‘It doesn’t happen like that, I know that much. And … he’s _our_ son, my son too.’

She turned a bitter gaze on him but grew weary of it and tipped the rest of the contents of the glass down her throat. ‘I asked you to get me the bottle.’ Helen stared into her empty tumbler and extended her arm towards the bottle, demanding it, palm outstretched.

‘You’ve had enough.’

‘Don’t presume, John.’ She stood up, arms braced on the table, her face puce with rage. ‘Don’t fucking presume to tell me how to react after the extermination of my child!’ And, turning, she rushed to the counter to pick up the bottle. He caught her before she could pour herself anymore and yanked it out of her grip.

‘No, no!’ Helen screamed, curling her hands into fists and pounding them down on his chest time and time again. But the fight soon left her and she descended into sobs and sank to her knees, curling herself up foetally on the kitchen floor and wailing.

John knelt to her, holding her tight. She let herself fall against him but he felt her distance, felt her despair so acutely that his body grew coldly rigid, as if his blood had turned to ice.

‘Helen,’ he tried, but the soothing tone he tried to muster was absent. ‘Let me take you upstairs. You need to rest.’

‘I can’t sleep … I can’t sleep …’

‘Come on,’ he lifted her to her feet. The smell of alcohol, both stale and fresh, hit him so hard he drew back instinctively. ‘Come on,’ he tried again. ‘I’ll help you up.’

Slowly, supporting her, he guided her up the stairs and, removing her shoes and earrings, laid her down on the bed. She turned away from him as he sat down on the bed tentatively.

‘Don’t stay with me. I don’t want you near me.’ Her voice was remote and detached, but clear in its intention.

The ice tightened its grip. ‘Helen …’

‘I said I don’t want you near me. Get out.’

John should have cried. He needed to cry as he had needed to cry from the moment he had received the telephone call in Berlin from his wife. But no tears came now as they hadn’t then. They seemed a futile gesture, hollow, indulgent. She had said little in the call, only, ‘He’s gone. He handed himself in and they’ve taken him.’ He returned immediately and felt his wife’s alienation as soon as he had walked through the door.

But tears had not come then. Neither did they come now, despite the life draining from him, the agony tightening its grip hour by hour. He clenched the muscle in his jaw and stared down at the carpet. Then, pushing himself heavily from the bed, John walked reluctantly to the door. Before he left she said, with remarkable and sudden sobriety, ‘It’s your fault. It’s all your fault.’

He stood, unable to respond, a stranger in his own home.

\--xxoOoxx--

John paced heavily downstairs, his feet dragging. He stood in the hallway again and stared blankly ahead, his mind wracked with so much torment that its enormity wrought in him a strange detachment.

He glanced about as if trying to find something to grab onto and pull him back into reality. The telephone. He had to make arrangements. He had to act. He paced over, picked up the receiver, and dialled his brother-in-law.

‘Michael? It’s John. Listen, thank you to you and Jane for looking after the girls. There’s a lot going on and it’s good to know there’s family to fall back on. Look, I’m sorry to ask more but Helen’s not well right now. Unfortunately, I have to work away. I’d love to stay but with things as they are, I’m needed. Can Jane come over and take Helen back with her? I know the girls would love to be with their mother, but I can’t leave Helen on her own right now.’

He listened carefully to the response. There was a slight hesitation in his brother-in-law’s answer, not because he wouldn’t help – Helen’s family had always been the first to offer support – but because there were too many questions raised by John – Helen not well? Working away? In what way were things as they were?

He wouldn’t answer them and he knew Michael wouldn’t ask.

‘John … you know we’re here for you all. The girls are doing fine and we’d love to have Helen too. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll come over and get her.’

‘Thanks, Michael, thanks. Helen … will need watching, she’ll need care. Do you understand me?’

‘I think so, John.’

‘Good, thank you.’ He prepared to hang up.

‘John …’

‘Yes?’

‘What’s happened to Thomas? Your neighbours said the health authority took him in a van.’

The icy grip returned, but he covered it with the casual smoothness well-honed over the years. ‘A misunderstanding, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. It’s all in hand. Thomas is fine. Absolutely fine.’

Pause. John heard the doubt down the silence of the line, but when John Smith said something was absolute, you accepted it. ‘Good,’ came Michael’s answer. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Well … I’ll be over as soon as I can.’

‘Thanks, Michael. I appreciate that.’

He replaced the receiver, then, as the fog started to encroach again, forced himself back upstairs. He glanced at his wife; she lay in the same position she had been before. Then John reached for a bag and began packing a few things into it. She didn’t look, she didn’t comment.

‘I have to go away for a while. You’re going to go stay with Jane and Michael and be with the girls. They need you and you need them.’

‘I thought I told you to get out.’

He stopped and at last sighed, his first response to her antagonism. ‘Helen … Where do you think I’m going?’

‘Hell, John. I think you’re going to hell.’

‘I’m going to find him, Helen.’

‘He’s dead.’

Anger towards her bubbled within him for the first time. ‘Stop it. Stop saying that. It takes time. It doesn’t happen immediately.’

‘You don’t know where they took him.’

‘No, but I’ll figure it out.’

He heard a rustle and turned to see his wife sitting up in bed. He barely recognised her, her face was hollow with despair, twisted with disdain. ‘You did this to him. You. All you. You carried it, you gave it to him and then your pathetic need for recognition drove him to do that.’

He narrowed his eyes, shocked. ‘My what?’

‘You’ve always been like it – wouldn’t stop until you reached the top, no matter who you had to piss on to get there.’

‘Helen … this isn’t you. Stop talking like this.’

‘Congratulations, John, on your success, success which has resulted in the destruction of your family.’

He stepped into her but stopped, breathing steadily, remembering himself. ‘You don’t understand. I didn’t seek that. I didn’t seek any of it. I had to do it. It had to be done.’

‘Why should I believe you? You never tell me anything. What other filthy, disgusting secrets do you have hidden, John? I’ve turned a blind eye for long enough. I’ve towed the party line, I’ve had total faith in you. But I’ve lost that faith, I’ve lost it. You’ve killed him, John. You, and your quest to fit in. You’ve killed my baby.’

‘Helen, believe me. You know me better that that. Every single thing I have ever done, I have done to keep my family safe and well.’

‘Then … you’ve failed. Now, I told you before … get out.’

He stood, his heart thudding so hard it hammered in his ear drums. He picked up his bag and moved to the door. There he paused and looked back. ‘I’m going to find him, Helen. I’m going to bring him back.’

\--xxoOoxx--

John spent the night in the office, not on the sofa, but at his desk. He couldn’t leave until he’d seen Erich and, in any case, he had much to prepare before he left. Through the long, dark hours, he sat writing, planning, deceiving.

He was, to anyone who asked, involved an operation to the western area to suppress the Resistance. His sleepless night enabled him to leave a meticulous trail of paperwork to cover himself and enable Juliana Crain to come with him.

John was ready well before eight, when he knew Erich would arrive. The door opened and Erich’s familiar footsteps approached. John turned to greet him, assuring smile on his face, hands deep in pockets, the picture of cool control he had perfected so well over the years.

‘Obergruppenführer!’ said Erich, surprised to see his boss so early. ‘You don’t usually get here at this time.’ Erich’s stare took in Smith’s casual clothes. He never came to work out of uniform.

‘Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you, but with everything that’s been going on, I haven’t found a moment. I’m heading off for a few days to try to get more of a handle on the operations of the Resistance in the west. I’ll travel incognito, hence the ...’ He glanced down, indicating his clothes.

‘I see. Do you need me to accompany you?’

‘No, no, that’s alright. There are some operatives I can use on the way, if necessary. I want to get a grip on it myself though, sometimes I can feel a little distanced from it all.’

‘I see. That’s a good idea, sir. I hope it goes well.’

‘Thanks, Erich. I trust you’ll keep things running smoothly at this end. I’ll call in as often as I can to see things are okay.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

He bent to gather his bags. ‘Oh, there was one other thing.’

‘Sir?’

‘Julia Mills … she was wanted in connection with the Collins case.’

‘Yes, sir. We believe she may have escaped to the Neutral Zone. We’ll catch her soon enough. There are bounty hunters onto it.’

‘Drop her from your investigations.’

‘Drop her?’

‘It’s not her. There’s been a mistake. Julia Mills is exonerated and remains a vital part of Reich operations.’

‘Are you sure, sir? The woman seen talking to Henry Collins matched her description clearly, and she’s been involved in suspicious activity before.’

‘It’s not Julia Mills. It’s this woman.’ He opened a file on his desk and held up a photo of a dark haired girl, pretty, unassuming.

Erich looked at it, his brows furrowed. ‘That’s Marcia Dujean, she works in Accounts at the Information Center. She went out with my friend, Luke, for a time. She’s very reliable, straight as a die. I can’t believe she’d be involved.’

Smith pouted languidly. ‘Appearances can be deceptive. It’s her. Look. She’s been under surveillance for some time.’ He passed over documents detailing Marcia Dujean’s movements: records of her visiting known Resistance areas, accounts of her talking to people in parks, handing over documents. It had taken John several hours to manufacture them all. He allowed himself a hint of pride at their appearance of authenticity.

‘How … how have you found all this?’ Eric couldn’t hide his shock and dismay.

‘Persistence. I wanted the matter resolved before I left. I want this woman arrested and interrogated first thing this morning, is that understood?’

‘Yes, Obergruppenführer.’ Erich stood up tall in front of his superior. ‘And if she’s not able to provide satisfactory answers?’

‘She won’t provide satisfactory answers. She’ll protest her innocence, but it’s her. Charge her and deal with her accordingly.’

Erich swallowed hard. ‘Very well, Obergruppenführer.’

‘Good. Thank you, Erich. I’ll be back in a few days.’ He held out his open palm and shook hands, then, picking up his bags, John Smith left his office.

\--xxoOoxx--

Juliana Crain had returned to her apartment as he had told her to. Should she question his demand? One of the most important Nazi officers in the world was expecting her to travel alone with him into the unknown and she had barely hesitated in agreeing.

But she would stop at nothing to save Thomas, and she knew he would too. If anyone could stop the madness before it was too late, even Juliana Crain accepted that John Smith was capable.

She had left nothing of any significance in her apartment, which was a relief, as it was clear when she returned that it had been gone over with a fine tooth comb. Not that they had left it in disarray, in fact, it took her sharp eye to spot anything was out of place, but clothes had been rehung in a slightly different order, the milk in the refrigerator was not where she usually kept it.

She was glad of a proper bed and a shower. She let the hot water play on her for an age, holding her head up to the stream and enjoying the pin sharp sensations as they hit her weary body. Images of Smith filled her mind: him sitting beside her rubbing his hands; him standing in his house in uniform, smiling before dinner; him standing beside a bloodied, suspended body as he demanded answers. She turned her face up to the hot water and indulged the pain a little longer before shaking her head violently to try to eradicate the images.

She slept, remarkably. Exhaustion had at last caught up with her, and the bed was so cosseting and comfortable after cramped buses and fear of discovery that she slept for hours, dreamless and innocent.

He had told her to be ready by nine. She had washed her clothes as best she could and packed a few things, and now, at a quarter to, she sat tensely on her sofa, expecting the electricity to go off any moment, waiting for the knock.

It was almost exciting.

She cursed herself for that and stubbed out her cigarette before immediately reaching for another.

The clock ticked and she stared at it incessantly, wanting the hands to stop, willing them to move faster.

Nine o’clock. Every one of her senses was attuned, primed, the air seemed to buzz with expectation.

But then it stopped, the buzzing. The lights went off, the hum of the refrigerator stopped. The electricity had been switched off.

She counted, trying to steady her breathing.

There. Three low knocks on the door. She stood and smoothed down her skirt and ran a hand through her hair, unaware she’d done it. Juliana crossed to the door and opened it. He stood outside and, without saying a word, stepped in and closed the door himself behind them.

She moved into the center of the room and crossed her arms about her. He was dressed casually. The top button of his blue cotton shirt was undone, she noted.

‘Are you ready, Miss Crain?’

She nodded.

‘Then let’s go.’

She put on her coat and picked up her bag. He reached to take it from her. The gesture startled her but she resisted. ‘That’s alright, I’ve got it,’ she said, holding it back from him.

His mouth ticked with amusement but he let her. Opening the door, he led the way out of the apartment, putting his hat on and tugging it over his brow.

He led her around some corners to a side street and stopped at a car she didn’t recognise.

‘This isn’t your car,’ she said.

‘Well observed, Miss Crain. I’ve borrowed this one for a few days.’

‘With the owner’s approval?’ she asked pointedly. She noted the rise at the corner of his mouth again.

‘Something to bear in mind for the next few days, Miss Crain … Don’t ask questions. If I need to tell you something, I’ll tell you.’ He took her bag from her and put it in the trunk then opened the passenger door before moving round to the driver’s seat and getting in immediately.

She could run now. She could forget this insanity and get far away, but she didn’t. Juliana Crain lowered herself into the passenger seat beside John Smith and closed the door.

She looked across at him. He was looking at her, and she thought momentarily that he appeared faintly surprised that she had complied. Then, turning his attention to the road ahead, John Smith started the engine and pulled away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your interest in this story. I hope you continue to enjoy the journey. Let me know your thoughts if you have a moment. x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road trip begins. And it's such a long way.
> 
> Excellent.

He drove them out of New York, past the skyscrapers until they reached the terraces and neat gardens of suburbia, and then further yet, where the trees became dense and the road wound its way through forests and over hills.

They barely spoke a word yet Juliana felt no discomfort. She questioned whether she should and thought back to the first time she shared a car with him. It was after her interrogation, after her defection to the Reich. She had feared him. She had pressed herself against the door of the passenger side, and had felt his eyes upon her, assessing, appraising. This time was different. Whereas then their own resolves had been so at odds, so perilously held on a knife edge that she would not have been surprised if he had driven her to a bunker and eliminated her there and then, this time there was an odd compatibility borne through a shared purpose.

The leather of the seat warmed under her, comforting, she acknowledged. The engine rumbled, the indicators ticked reassuringly, reminding her of lazy family trips as a child. She studied his hands as he held the steering wheel. His fingers were long and curled around it with conviction. She upbraided herself when she realised how things were settling within her: she was trusting him.

It was Juliana who spoke first. ‘Where are we going?’

‘West.’

‘Do you even know exactly?’

He turned briefly towards her and she was not afraid to look at him. The corner of his mouth almost rose up in amusement.

‘There is a facility near Billings in Montana and another at Santa Rosa, New Mexico. I don’t know which one he’ll be in. We’ll go to the closest first.’

‘Neither are exactly close. They’re both on the border with the Neutral Zone.’

‘Exactly. They’re not going to put them in the middle of New York, Miss Crain.’

‘Aren’t you afraid of being recognised?’

‘Not afraid, Miss Crain, that would be futile. I probably will be recognised, but … I have a hat.’

She sniffed out a laugh. He glanced at her again and his face softened to the point at which a smile almost danced on his lips.

‘I suppose you tend to exact obedience from people,’ she dared.

‘Do I?’

‘In my experience.’

He paused briefly then said, ‘Is that what I did to you?’

She didn’t respond.

Smith continued. ‘I have a feeling you _chose_ to be obedient, or at least …’

‘What?’

He said no more.

‘What explanation did you give Helen?’ she asked at length. It seemed strange to speak his wife’s name out loud, she thought after saying it.

Smith answered without hesitation. ‘I told her what I was doing.’

Juliana turned to him and asked genuinely, ‘How is she?’

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. This time he did pause briefly. ‘The situation is not an easy one, Miss Crain.’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’

He turned and looked at her again before returning his concentration to the road. ‘You really are very empathetic, aren’t you?’

His choice of word surprised her. ‘Empathetic? Is that a good thing?’

‘It’s a useful thing. But it can be a sign of weakness.’

‘I’d rather be weak than lack empathy.’

‘I would say it was your empathy that keeps getting you into trouble.’

‘I haven’t been in trouble recently.’

‘And yet here you are travelling into the unknown with a high-ranking Nazi official. Some might say that was trouble of the worst kind.’

His words could have struck fear into her, but instead she detected a teasing lilt. She responded in kind. ‘It doesn’t feel like trouble right now.’

Juliana looked out of the window. The sun was sparkling through the high pines, dappling the road, catching her vision and beguiling her. She leaned over to roll down the window a little and inhaled the fresh scents of early autumn. ‘It’s so beautiful.’

He let out a slow sigh and his fingers stretched and curled back over the wheel. ‘I used to bring Thomas out here … fishing, climbing, hiking.’

She turned to look at him. He stared straight ahead but blinked three times in quick succession. She almost put a hand out to him, to place it on his arm in reassurance, but she didn’t.

‘You will again,’ she said but it sounded hollow.

‘Yes,’ he repeated. He needed to hear it, clearly. His Adam’s apple jolted along his neck.

She steered the conversation to mundane matters. ‘How long will it take to reach Billings? It must be over 2000 miles away.’

‘A few days, four perhaps.’

‘What are we going to do at night?’

‘Can you drive?’

‘No, I’m sorry.’

‘Then we’ll stop at motels.’

Her stomach lurched. Two rooms, surely. What would they say? How would he deal with it? How would he ask for the rooms? What names would he give?

She glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, unperturbed. Was he not asking himself the same questions?

She settled herself back in the seat. She wouldn’t ask more.

They drove on until the mountains grew closer and they started to climb. Juliana tried to ignore the fact that she was quite content. She glanced at the gas gauge. They would have to stop soon. ‘You’ll need gas.’

‘I’m aware of that, Miss Crain.’

At the next town, he leaned forward, searching for a gas station. He pulled into a place on the edge of town. John reached for his hat and put it back on. Anxiety took hold of Juliana for the first time since setting out. Her palms grew clammy and her pulse raced. The door of the store opened and an ageing attendant shuffled out.

‘Afternoon, folks,’ he slurred, cheery enough. ‘How much can I get for you today?’

‘Full, thank you,’ said John, barely glancing up. The attendant didn’t seek any more but moved around to the pump.

Juliana grew suddenly aware of her thirst. ‘I need something to drink. Can I go get something?’

He nodded. ‘Why not? And … here …’ he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out his wallet, old, leather, worn. She was surprised. She had expected it to be as pristine and immaculate as his uniform. She tried to turn down his money but he insisted. ‘Get something to eat too – chips, pretzels, and some drinks. Now I think about it … I could use something.’

She sniffed out a smile and he returned it. She could almost forget who he was. After visiting the rest room, Juliana paced into the store, guarding herself against the casual easiness she was feeling.

She was so used to keeping her head down that she walked into the store with her hands clutching her coat tight about her and staring at the floor. But why? If she wished to rouse suspicion that would be the way and it would do no favors to the man she was travelling with. Juliana chided herself at her concern for him. But this whole venture was not for him. It was for Thomas. It was all for Thomas. And so she let her hands drop to her sides and walked tall, smiling across at the girl on the check-out, who was chewing vigorously. After throwing Juliana a caustic look of bored disdain, she let her eyes return to a magazine.

Juliana picked up a few items and went over to the counter. ‘Thank you.’

The girl barely glanced up and tapped in the prices with rhythmic aggression. ’18 Marks.’

Juliana handed over the money and received the goods with a smile. ‘Good bye.’

The girl grunted a farewell and Juliana left again: all very straightforward.

Smith had paid the gas attendant and was waiting for her in the car.

‘This should keep us going for a while,’ she smiled, indicating the bag.

‘Good, but it’ll be getting dark soon. We’ll go on a bit and then stop for the night.’

‘I’m sorry I can’t help with the driving. It’s something I regret, not being able to drive.’

‘You should learn. Someone like you, Miss Crain … you need as many tricks up your sleeve as possible.’

They drove on. She opened a bag of potato chips and offered him some. He reached in and took a few, smiling a ‘Thank you.’ It was all comfortable. It was all easy. She glanced at him as he ate, how he placed each chip carefully in his mouth one at a time. She did that too. So far, he had done nothing to offend her in any way.

The sun was in their eyes as they drove on further west. It burnished the forests of Pennsylvania with golds and deep greens. Juliana thought it so beautiful she sucked in in wonder. ‘I’ve never been here before.’

‘I used to come as a child,’ he added.

She turned to him. ‘Really?’

‘Why do you sound surprised?’

‘I don’t know, I just ... Where are you from?’

‘Indiana.’

‘Oh, I thought …’

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Sometimes, I … forget you were American.’

‘I _was_? I _am_ American, Miss Crain. Completely and totally.’

‘I find that difficult to accept … Obergruppenführer.’ She had dared and waited for the rebuke.

It came only in the hardened look in his eyes as he turned to her. ‘Then you don’t understand me very well, Miss Crain.’

‘Perhaps not. But then … I have no desire nor need to.’

‘But you’re curious, so you do have desire, and it would benefit you if you did, so you also have need. Don’t lie to yourself, Miss Crain.’

‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

‘You haven’t.’

‘But I don’t think as Nazi officers as being American.’

‘My name is John Smith, Miss Crain, that’s about as American as it gets.’

She had been controversial, she had given him a reason to rise to her bait, and he had snuffed it out with humour. She smiled to herself ruefully; they would move on.

‘Do you want some soda?’ she asked, reaching into the bag again.

‘What did you get?’

‘Root beer.’

‘My childhood favourite. Helen won’t allow it at home. Too sweet, too … American.’ He smirked. She did too.

‘Yeah, well … they didn’t have much choice. You may have to break your habits just for once.’

‘I think I can handle that.’

She opened the bottle on the opener of the car’s panelling and her thirst got the better of her. She took several large gulps quickly and closed her eyes in relief. ‘God, I was thirsty.’

‘Leave some for me, Miss Crain.’

Juliana intended to wipe it first but he glanced at her and indicated the bottle. She handed it over without cleaning the rim. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thank you.’ He took it and, eyes still trained on the road, raised the bottle to his mouth without a second thought. She found herself staring. She’d just had that same bottle against her lips. Against the light of the window, she noticed what a fine profile he had. She swallowed hard and turned away.

Darkness descended quickly and when they came to the town, they searched for a motel. The Valley View Lodge seemed convenient enough and there was a diner on the other side of the road.

Smith turned off the engine and rested back in the seat, his eyes closed, clearly worn out.

‘Thank you for driving all that way. You’ve done well. I’m sorry I couldn’t help,’ she said.

‘You’re sorry an awful lot, Miss Crain. It’s unnecessary and not entirely believable.’

‘Fine, I’ll … shut up.’

He tore open his eyes and looked across at the reception. ‘I’ll go book the rooms. You’d better come with me.’

Together they walked over to the reception. A middle-aged man in spectacles smiled warmly as they entered. Smith had his hat pulled down.

‘Good evening, we require two rooms for this evening. I apologise for troubling you so late.’

Juliana crossed her arms at the paradox of the man. So polite, so smooth. Would the receptionist realise how many people he’d ordered to be tortured and put to death?

‘I’ll see what I can do, sir.’ The man glanced up at Smith and started a little. ‘Umm …’ He grew flustered and fumbled through the bookings. ‘Yes, yes, that’s fine … sir. I can do room 41 on the first floor for you and your wife, sir.’

‘I said two rooms.’

‘Oh, will your wife be-?’

‘She’s not my wife.’ ‘I’m not his wife.’

She and Smith spoke together. Juliana glanced at him, her face bright red. He did not look back.

The receptionist grew even more flustered. ‘I see. Let me check if …’ His trembling finger ran down the list of rooms. ‘Yes, yes, that’s fine, I can put you in 42, ma’am. Unless, you would prefer something further away.’ He glanced up, almost fearful of the reaction.

‘That’s fine,’ she replied hurriedly, then thought better of it and looked to Smith.

’42 is good.’

‘Right then. I will need both your signatures here … and here.’

The man handed over forms for them. Juliana hesitated. What should she sign? Smith took the pen quickly, giving her time to think. She glanced over and noted the name he wrote: ‘Frederick Johnson.’

He turned to her with a faint smile and handed her the pen. ‘Here you go, Charlotte.’

‘Thanks.’ She returned his smile, bent to the paper and signed with no hesitation, ‘Charlotte Rivers.’

The receptionist took their forms and read the name Smith had signed. ‘Oh,’ he said, unable to contain what was clear surprise.

‘Is there a problem?’ queried Smith.

The man looked up at him, his eyes wide with evident fear. ‘No, no, sir, no, Mr … Johnson, not at all. I’ll just fetch the keys for you.’

‘Thank you. It’s late. We’d appreciate that.’ His words were polite enough but they were said with that cold determination which made Juliana shudder. It was the first time all day she’d been reminded of who he really was.

The man handed over the keys, his fingers still trembling.

Juliana glanced behind the counter. There was a newspaper on a chair. The face of the man standing beside her adorned the front cover, his peaked SS cap on his head, with the words: ‘John Smith – The man who prevented war’.

‘The diner over the road … does it remain open late?’ asked Smith.

‘If there are people wanting food, sir, it does. I would get there quite soon if you wanna eat, Obergr- … Mr Johnson.’

‘Thank you.’ Smith turned away, then looked back at the man, his stare fixed and penetrating. ‘This town seems like a quiet place.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I doubt you ever have much trouble here.’

‘No, sir. The folks here are good, law-abiding people. We keep our heads down and just go about our business peacefully, sir.’

‘Good, I’m pleased to hear it. I’m sure it’ll stay that way.’

The man swallowed hard, his eyes staring unblinkingly. ‘Yes, sir, that’s right, no trouble at all, that’s all we want.’

‘Excellent. Thank you for your help. What’s your name?’

‘Jim, sir.’

‘Your last name?’

‘Jim Ferguson, sir.’

‘Jim Ferguson, good man. I’ll remember you. I never forget a name … or a face.’

The blood drained from Jim Ferguson’s face. He mouthed, barely audibly, ‘Thank you, sir.’ Juliana knew that thanks were the last thing on his mind. She tried to muster pity for him but found herself instead admiring Smith’s easy ability to render complete compliance in all with only a few words.

They took their bags to the rooms and paused outside. ‘He recognised you,’ she said.

‘Yes, but I don’t anticipate a problem.’

‘And if there is?’

He turned to her and held her gaze. ‘There won’t be.’ Smith placed his key in the lock. ‘We should eat straight away. I’ll meet you outside in ten minutes. Is that alright, Miss Crain?’

She nodded.

‘Good.’ And with that, he opened the door to his room, went inside, and shut it behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you have a moment. I love building the slow-burn between them and, if you need a quick fix, go and read my next instalment in the 'Secure' series. Guaranteed for a good night's sleep/dream.
> 
> And back to this one ... we all know where slow burns lead ... ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The curious road trip continues. And they're hungry. When you're hungry, you eat. And when you eat, you talk.

John Smith wasn’t sure where to place his bag; there was no luggage shelf as such. The room smelt musty, the carpet was fading, the walls darkening. He hesitated, opting at length for putting his bag on the bed which then sagged dramatically under its weight. He reached over tentatively and pressed down. His hand promptly sank into the mattress as if through grits, albeit accompanied by a loud clanking groan. It would not be a comfortable night. He rubbed his hands wearily over his face and glanced about. On two walls were paintings of mountain views, gaudy, amateur, entirely lacking in any of the luminous atmosphere Juliana Crain had commented on earlier.

He was not used to travelling alone. Or rather, he was not used to travelling without Helen and the kids, and he was not used to travelling west. East seemed to fit. He felt odd, as if beyond his own body. With a sigh, the depth of which took him aback, he paced into the bathroom. He turned on the light, which consisted of a single glaring bulb overhead. John stared at himself in the mirror. He looked tired, he thought, but then, he was. He had barely slept for days. He would have to tonight, even on that desolate bed.

He was relieved to find the toilet relatively clean, at least. When he turned on the cold tap, water gushed out erratically. He ran his hands under it, enjoying the cleansing iciness. The journey so far had been relatively easy. She was pleasant enough to share a car with.

_Pleasant._

He sniffed at the word as he splashed his face. Was her pleasantry as much of a deceit as the lies she spun so effortlessly? It didn’t seem to be, he admitted. It had all felt quite _normal_. He stared at his face again and reached into his washbag for a comb. He ran it through his hair. He was just about to replace the comb but then found himself pulling it through a lock which would not lie flat; it was noticeable. He turned to leave but paused and instead reached for his cologne and daubed some on. Ten minutes, he’d said. Time to go. One final glance in the mirror.

She was not outside as he’d hoped. He glanced about. It was nearly dark. The crickets were starting to chirrup. He stood still and listened. There was nobody else around that he could see, although he was relieved to see lights still on in the diner opposite.

He waited and glanced at his watch. It had in fact only been eight minutes. He would enjoy the peace for a moment longer.

After ten minutes she had still not appeared. He had said ten minutes and so he turned towards her door and raised his hand. But he hesitated and did not knock. Perhaps he could grant her some more time. It had been a long journey, after all. He stood, his hand still poised, uncertain how to proceed. Uncertainty was not something he enjoyed.

And the door opened. She stepped straight out, head down, adjusting an earring, and nearly bumped into him. ‘Oh! Sorry! I didn’t see –‘

He stepped back quickly. ‘I was just about to knock. It’s been ten minutes, Miss Crain.’

She blushed slightly but pursed her lips – an odd combination of embarrassment and annoyance which he should have found antagonistic but didn’t. ‘I had to freshen up. It’s been a long day.’

‘Of course.’ He stood, his hands in pockets. She had changed her blouse. Darker lipstick. More around the eyes. He noticed.

She glanced up in that way she had while keeping her head down. He’d thought it manipulative before, but perhaps it was simply a habit developed from a time before the Resistance, before the Reich even.

He cleared his throat and held his hand out towards the diner. ‘Shall we?’

‘Thank you.’ She stepped off the porch of the motel before him. In the muggy glow of twilight, he was suddenly and dizzyingly taken back to a time long ago, walking down the steps of a family home far from here with a girl. The knot in his stomach he had felt so forcefully at that time threatened momentarily to return. He reprimanded himself. This was not a date. This was a necessity.

He kept a few steps behind Juliana Crain. She drew her legs in and around a little when she walked, he noted (he’d noted before). It imbued her with a sensuality she did not seem to be aware of. He had not noticed that before.

She paused, waiting for him to catch up and keep pace with him. ‘How’s your room?’ she asked, the lilt in her voice hinting that she already knew the answer.

He huffed sardonically. ‘I’ve known better. The bed gives new meaning to the word ‘soft’.’

She laughed. ‘Really? Mine’s like rock. I’m going to be stiff as a board in the morning. I prefer soft.’

He returned her smile and held the door of the diner open for her. The waitress behind the counter looked up, dismayed at their arrival.

He stepped forward. ‘Good evening. We require a table.’

‘It’s real late,’ the waitress declared, her eyes dull, her hand not pausing in drying a plate.

Juliana Crain stepped forward and smiled at the waitress who immediately relaxed. ‘Hello. I’m sorry we’re here so late, but we’ve had a long journey and would love to eat. Your place looks so inviting.’ John glanced at her. She was smiling across at the girl, warm, open, entirely genuine.

The waitress sighed. ‘I’ll go ask the chef.’

Juliana turned slightly to him with a knowing smile. He could only return it.

The waitress returned a few moments later. ‘Okay, you got lucky, but you’ll need to order fast.’

‘No problem, and thank you so much.’ She gave another of those smiles. They went to a booth and the waitress brought them over some menus.

‘Have you come far?’ she asked, pencil and pad in hand.

‘From New York City.’

‘What brings you out this way?’

‘Business,’ he said emphatically.

The waitress scoffed. ‘There ain’t much business round here.’ She received no further reply. ‘Right … what can I get you to drink?’

‘Lemonade?’ said Juliana.

The waitress wrote it down.

‘The same for me.’ He would love a beer. Helen drank wine so he did too, but tonight, for whatever reason, he craved beer.

They turned their attentions to the menu. Silence. For the first time on the journey it felt awkward. Perhaps it was their enforced proximity. Perhaps it was the fact that the diner was otherwise empty save for the waitress.

He narrowed his eyes. The choice of food was uninspired. He had grown too used to his wife’s precise, planned meals and the indulgent excesses of Reich lunches, perhaps. Meals were for a purpose, whether to promote family discussion or to elicit information and strategy. They were rarely enjoyed purely for pleasure.

This meal was serving a purpose too. He was hungry. And curious. He turned his eyes to the woman sitting opposite him. When was the last time he had sat alone for a meal with a woman who was not his wife? She was studying the menu. There was a little indent between her eyes where her brows were furrowed.

‘What do you think?’ he asked. It seemed wise to break the silence.

‘Umm … the soup, perhaps.’

‘Soup? Is that all?’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Aren’t you hungry?’

She paused momentarily. ‘Yes.’

‘Well …’

‘Soup’s fine.’

Money. She couldn’t afford more. He couldn’t have her going hungry. He needed her to be focused and alert throughout this venture. But she was a fiercely proud woman, he knew that, fiercely independent. And this was not a date. He would not embarrass her or himself by offering to pay, which he could easily do ten thousand times over.

‘I’ll tell you what. Here’s the deal – we swap rooms. You let me sleep on your rock of a mattress and you sleep on mine, and … your meal’s on me.’

She looked up at him with those large, dark eyes. The corner of her mouth turned up a little and he felt his do the same. ‘It’s a deal.’

He sniffed out a laugh and she joined him in it. Easy, natural. He drew in a deep breath and realised he had lost the tension in his shoulders for the first time in weeks.

The waitress took their orders. They were both having the steak. ‘How d’you want it cooked, ma’am?’ she asked Juliana.

‘Medium … verging on rare.’

‘And you, sir?’

‘Rare verging on raw, thank you.’

The waitress didn’t laugh. Juliana did.

Their menus were taken. The woman opposite him leaned in slightly over the table. ‘I would have put you down as a well-done kind of man.’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Appearances can be deceptive, Miss Crain, you know that.’

She took a drink of lemonade. ‘Tell me about Indiana.’

Her forthright question threw him a little. He never spoke of his past. He hesitated, but when he met her eyes he could read no deceit in them. Why not tell her? There was nothing that was an overt secret. And he felt like talking, not about policy or operations or manipulation. He felt like talking about something so far removed that it was almost from another world.

‘Albany. Small town. Tiny town. My father ran a hardware store. It kept us ticking over but they were tough times, the '30s ... we had very little. I always remember being sent to get the rotten potatoes out of the barrel. "Don't you go touching the good ones!" my mother would shout.’ He smirked. 'It was so tempting to sneak in a good one just so I could taste its goodness ... but I never did.'

She smiled.

‘I hated it, it must be said. Flat, predictable, and dull. But they were good people, kind and, within their narrow view of life, wise.’

‘But you’re no longer there.’

‘Thank God.’

She laughed and took another drink. ‘Carry on.’

Since when had he been so readily compliant to another? But he continued. ‘I did well in high school. Very well. And my parents read a lot so I read too. I loved history, loved reading about the turmoil of Europe – always in turmoil – revolts, revolutions. It fascinated me. The struggle of the human race to improve their lot and protect their own. And my parents were busy with other matters. My brother … was not able to go to college. So I studied hard and got lucky - a scholarship to Indiana University in Bloomington.’

‘Your major?’

‘European history.’

She smirked. ‘What else?’

‘Why not?’

‘Why not?’ Her smirk turned into a deeper smile. He was staring straight into her and she did not look away. People rarely held his gaze unless they were terrified. She wasn’t, he could tell. He continued.

‘I graduated in ‘39.’

‘Ah.’

‘I didn’t wait for the draft. I joined up straight away. Does that surprise you?’

‘I don’t know you well enough to be surprised or not.’

‘Just think though, Miss Crain, the highest ranking Nazi in the country was once a captain in the US Army.’ He studied her carefully. Admittedly, she gave little away, but she listened. That, at least, was something.

‘I assumed you would’ve been at some point.’ He must have looked surprised as she continued, ‘You’re American, as you keep reminding me, and therefore, until the Germans won the war, you would have fought for the US.’

Again, she was bold. He found it refreshing. Nobody spoke to him so freely. He had not expected it of her; she was usually so guarded. But then, being in the middle of the Appalachian mountains, away from the steel and stone and hard lines of the New York Reich, meant that perhaps she was away from herself, as was he.

The waitress brought their food. ‘There you go. Medium. And rare.’

The two plates were placed before them. It was immediately clear that both steaks were verging on well beyond well-done. They were both charred.

He caught Juliana’s eye and as the waitress moved off they both barely stifled laughter.

He tried to saw through the first piece and held the blackened meat up for scrutiny. ‘A curious interpretation of ‘rare’.’

‘Strangely, mine’s slightly better. Do you want to swap?’

‘No, that’s alright. Swapping beds is enough swapping for one day.’ She giggled. He smiled back and let a strange warmth seep through him that reminded him of his daughter’s birthday party last year.

They ate silently for a while, not because the awkward silence had found them again, but because chewing the almost inedible steak took all their concentration and energy. They were so hungry they would eat anything, however.

After some time, Juliana put down her knife and fork. ‘My jaw aches.’

He laughed and put his cutlery down too.

‘When did you meet Helen?’

A personal question, again, slipped in so gently that he barely noticed at first. He was usually so guarded against them. He had had people killed for less. But he found himself answering. ‘At college. I was a junior, she was a sophomore. It was difficult when the war broke out. I was stationed in England for a while, but we wrote. A lot. And then during the Invasion of Britain, I was sent back here.’

‘During it? Didn’t they keep you there to fight?’

‘For a time.’ He stiffened. He would once again shut that part of his memory down, as he had long learnt to do, and continued quickly, ‘But not long. The Nazis were an unstoppable force.’ Oh, he had seen that first hand.

‘Are you saying the US gave up?’

‘They had no choice, Miss Crain. But it meant that I could spend time with Helen again. We got married in ’44 and Thomas was born the year after, just after the war ended.’

‘Just after the destruction of the United States of America.’

He chose not to reply. He had told her enough.

Silence fell. They managed to hack their way through the rest of their steaks.

‘Thank you,’ she said. He looked up in surprise. ‘For the steak.’ She paused. ‘And for talking to me.’

‘Now you.’

‘Me?’

‘What’s your story … Miss Crain?’

She blushed slightly. ‘Like your early life … dull.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I grew up in a small town in northern California. My family moved south to San Francisco when I was thirteen.’

‘A difficult age to face changes.’

‘Yeah, well … There were many changes, one more wouldn’t make a difference. My father died in the war when I was young. My mother remarried.’

‘Did you go to college?’

‘Is that important to you?’

‘I’m just curious.’

She looked at him steadily for a while. ‘You don’t need me to tell you these things, John. You already know all there is to know about me. The machine of the Reich ensured that when I defected.’

He smirked. Defected. Her word, not his. ‘I like hearing it from you.’

‘Two years at the University of California in Berkeley. I studied philosophy with Japanese, as we had to, but I loved my studies. But there were other things … I dropped out.’

He would have asked why, but held himself back.

‘I questioned my purpose. I had for a long time.’

He said nothing, just waited for her. She twirled the end of the knife in her fingers and then said, quite plainly, ‘And one day I threw myself in front of a bus.’

He was surprised. Not by the nature of her admission, but by the fact that she had voiced it so freely. He remembered her medical examination. But John Smith had long since moved beyond finding any human disclosure shocking. He replied with barely a pause, ‘Hence the scars.’

‘Yes.’

He waited, wondering if she would say more. She didn’t. ‘You know I could have you eliminated for that. Attempting suicide makes you ineligible for society.’

‘You could have me eliminated for any number of things, John. Yet here I am.’

She looked straight at him. She gave him a full, open look, head up, eyes wide. He felt the strangest sensation, which, if he had not grown so used to subverting emotion, he would have likened to shame.

‘It’s been a long day,’ he said at length.

‘Yes. A day which has brought you closer to finding Thomas.’

‘Yes. And you.’

‘He’s not my son.’

‘No, but … you care.’

‘I care, perhaps too much.’

He stared across at her, enjoying the intimacy, he acknowledged. ‘And who cares for you, Miss Crain? All those people, those men who flit in and out of your life? Frank Fink, George Dixon … Joe Blake … How much did or do any of them really care?’

She blinked twice and her mouth opened slightly to suck in breath. He’d surprised her. It wrought an emotion he knew all too well – that silvery glow of control when you catch someone off guard. He liked that feeling; it was familiar to him, so he dug deeper.

‘Is that why you did it? The bus? Because you have so much to give … but nobody really gives back?’

He expected her to lean away, cross her arms, guard against him, but she didn’t. Instead she drew herself closer to him and said with pure candour, ‘You have an extraordinary ability to understand people … and yet you choose to be a Nazi.’

Instead of finding himself silenced by her, he was excited by it. ‘Are the two not compatible?’

She opened her mouth to answer but the waitress approached at that moment. ‘That’ll be 22 marks. We’re closed now.’

John sucked in a breath and reached for his wallet. Now Juliana Crain did cross her arms and avert her gaze.

He left the waitress 25 marks and stood. ‘Thank you,’ he said and smiled at the girl deliberately, holding her eyes.

He saw a blush spread over her cheeks as she bit her lip and murmured, ‘Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.’

It was so easy, the charm, he knew it. It served him well, not that he could be bothered with it any longer even though he would need it now more than ever. But not here. Here, he could simply eat burnt steak and listen to the crickets. He wondered if Juliana had noticed the smile to the waitress, but she was turned away putting on her cardigan.

They walked back to the motel, or rather, they strolled. She commented on the stars, he pointed out the squirrel scampering away from them. Neither spoke any more about why someone becomes a Nazi.

When they reached the doors, there was an awkward moment when she forgot they were swapping rooms. She ended up bent over giggling. He allowed himself a smile.

Juliana drew in a breath and pointed behind her to her room. She was looking up with that shy grin again. Manipulative, perhaps, but he found he didn’t actually care. ‘I’ll just … go get my stuff.’

‘You do that,’ he grinned. She laughed again.

He gathered his things quickly and went over to her room. She had not noticed him and turned hurriedly out, nearly bumping into him in the doorway again.

‘This is becoming something of a habit, Miss Crain.’

‘I’m sorry. I can be so clumsy.’

Really? He thought her instead extremely elegant and self-controlled. He cleared his throat and looked down, stepping aside to let her pass.

She smiled shyly. ‘Good night. I hope you sleep well.’

‘Yes, you too. Thank you for … swapping.’

‘Well … I’m not sure that it’s going to be much better for you, but … there we are. Oh, and, thank you for the steak.’

‘The charred cardboard, you mean?’

She curled her hair around her ear and smiled up at him. ‘You sure know how to treat a girl.’

It was meant as a light-hearted joke but as she held his eyes he was reminded of their curious situation.

Silence. Not awkward, but heavy nonetheless.

Necessity, he reminded himself.

‘Good night, Miss Crain.’

‘Good night.’

She left the room and he listened to the shutting of her door. Slowly, he closed his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it was a slow burn ... 
> 
> Thank you for the comments. Keep them coming; I love the dialogue with readers. xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this on the day of Rufus Sewell's birthday. I wish him so much happiness as he has given me so much, truly, and I thank him deeply. There we are. Moving swiftly on. 
> 
> The journey continues. Much is said here. Much is thought.

Juliana closed the door softly, as if noise would disturb the peace they had created. She leant back against it and shut her eyes, steadying her heart beat which she noticed was fast and insistent.

Why was she even here? Why was she with this man she despised? 

But did she despise him? Do you sit and laugh about how bad your steak is with a man you hate?

She tore her eyes open and glanced around the room. There was no sign he had been there. She went over to the bed and sat tentatively. Her weight sank through easily and she allowed herself a smile imagining his dismay at thinking he’d have to spend a night on it. Juliana ran her hands over the covers without realising.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled off her ear rings and kicked off her shoes.

There had always been a contradiction with him: the Nazi officer – cold, precise in his words and his intent – against the family man in his home – welcoming, reassuring even. And now who was she with? This was another John Smith altogether, away from the Reich, away from his family. This was a John Smith she should resist getting to know but craved understanding.

She was currently with a man who, despite however hard she tried not to, she liked. Juliana cursed herself: too often did she allow emotion to dictate reason.

But then wasn’t she here due to her emotion? Wasn’t she here due to her affection for a Nazi boy who needed the same family stability and continuity that she craved? Because she knew that what that boy needed more than anything was the love of his father, now in the room next to her? A father whose entire purpose was to protect the welfare of his son and his family, of that Juliana was certain.

Sometimes emotion and reason collided and were simply right. And, however much she resisted it, Juliana knew that the collision between John Smith and herself was at this moment right.

She gathered her wash things and moved into the bathroom. The bulb above glared but she was relieved to find things otherwise clean. As she came out of the shower she glanced down and noticed something: a bottle of cologne. He had left it there.

She hesitated; it seemed too personal, too much of him. But she reached down and picked it up. The bottle was smooth in her hands and the glass cool. She undid the top tentatively and lifted it to her nose.

Musk, hinted citrus. Him. She had noticed it as they walked to the diner. She remembered the cooling night air; the smell of damp earth and pine trees and the scent of his cologne drifting around her when they walked close. She sniffed in again then did up the bottle quickly and took it back into the room with her.

She towelled her hair concertedly then slipped under the covers. She had neglected to bring any nightclothes, but then, what did it matter? No one would see her at night. Juliana lay quite still and stared above her. The room was completely silent. She listened. She listened for noises outside. She listened for noises from the room next door but heard nothing. She wondered if he was asleep, if he was comfortable on the mattress. She turned over and pulled the covers over her.

Tomorrow they would carry on, miles and miles in the car together. Juliana sank into the soft mattress and tried to clear her mind; she never slept well if things were troubling her.

Before she closed her eyes the last thing she saw was his cologne bottle on the bedside table. Within two minutes she was asleep. Nothing stirred her until morning.

\--xoOox--

Juliana woke naturally and realised with some surprise that she was no longer tired. Stretching long and slow, she reawakened her limbs indulgently. Immediately, her thoughts turned to the man next door – had he slept well? Should she wait for him to knock? Should she go to him?

She glanced at her watch: 7:15 am. They shouldn’t delay.

She got ready quickly and, as if on cue, heard three steady knocks. Juliana glanced in the mirror and rubbed a finger over her lips to tidy her lipstick before opening the door.

‘Good morning, Miss Crain.’

‘Good morning, Obergruppenführer.’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘I thought you weren’t going to call me that.’

She sniffed a laugh and dropped her gaze. ‘I’m not sure why I did.’ Lifting her head, she looked him fully in the eyes and said, ‘Good morning, John.’

At this he seemed momentarily surprised, but then, hands in pockets, he turned to look across at the diner.  ‘Shall we go get some breakfast?’

‘Do we have time?’

‘Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Miss Crain. Didn’t your mother teach you that?’

He was teasing her. She liked it. She curled a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘You’re right. I’m useless to anyone without coffee.’

‘And we can’t be having that, can we?’

His voice lilted but there was an edge to it which reminded her suddenly of who he was and made her stomach turn over. But then he smiled. When he smiled his cheekbones were more accentuated than ever. She had never known anyone with such extraordinary cheekbones.

‘Oh, I forgot,’ she said in sudden remembrance and reached into her bag for his bottle of cologne. ‘You left this in the bathroom.’

‘I figured I must have. Thank you.’ He reached over for the cologne but in the process his fingers brushed hers. Warm. Strong. Her stomach flipped again. She tried to pretend it hadn’t but still darted her eyes instinctively to his before remembering not to.

He eventually turned back towards the diner. ‘I don’t hold out much hope for good coffee, but let’s head over.’

Breakfast was good. Breakfast was easy. He talked about his daughter learning the violin and how they all pretended to love the screeching sounds which reverberated around the house on a Saturday morning. He talked about Thomas’ propensity for math and how his son got that from Helen and not himself, although he’d worked so hard to compensate that he was now considered the best analytical mind in the office; he’d deceived them all, he joked. She laughed. She listened. He seemed to want to talk. She wanted to humour him.

‘What was it like sleeping on that rock of a bed?’

It was his turn to laugh. ‘Not bad. A hell of a lot better than the other option. I hope you managed some sleep, Miss Crain?’

‘I did. I slept remarkably well, all things considered.’

‘All things considered …’ he repeated, half to himself, prodding his fork into his egg.

She didn’t answer. ‘How far do you think we’ll get today?’

‘We’ll try to reach Illinois.’

‘Not a place I’ve visited before.’

‘I've been to Chicago ... but we'll avoid Chicago.’

She took a final drag of coffee. ‘We should go probably get going then.’

Juliana stood first and enjoyed the momentary switch of dominance. He didn’t seem to mind, and, after settling up (Juliana this time insisted on paying for her own food), they gathered their things and were soon back in the car.

He drove steadily. They chatted; occasionally they were silent. It didn’t matter. The landscape flattened. Juliana stared outside. Here, the influence of the Reich was minimal. Here, she could pretend she was back in a world before Nazis, before the Kempeitai. She let her head fall back on the seat.

They drove on through Ohio, stopping briefly for a sandwich which they ate in the car. They'd soon reach Indiana, his home state. ‘Will we go near your home town?’ asked Juliana.

He shook his head. ‘We’re too far north for that.’

‘Do your folks still live there?’

‘No, they’ve both passed on.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘I never come back … And I can’t say I miss it. As you can see, there’s not much here to catch the eye,’ he said, looking out at the landscape.

‘No, but … I kind of like it. You can just fill things in for yourself.’

He sniffed out a laugh. ‘I don’t think my kids would see it that way. They like variation.’

‘Variation? I don’t remember wishing for that when I was a kid. Juliana, what do you want for Christmas? Oh, I’d love some _variation_ , Mom.’

He laughed again. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘What about Helen? Does she like it out here?’

Smith sucked in a breath. ‘No. Helen likes the city. She couldn’t wait to get out of Indiana. She’s only ever suffered our country holidays with stoic grace.’

‘Stoic grace. I like that – that’s her.’

He hesitated, then said, ‘ _Was_ her.’

Juliana swallowed. There was a beat of tense silence but she waited for him to continue.

‘This business has changed things,’ he added, staring fixedly at the road ahead.

‘Well … it will. I can’t imagine …’

‘She has distanced herself from me. Even before Thomas did what he did, she retreated. She blames me.’

‘Blames you?’

‘The disease. I’m the carrier. It’s genetic. My brother had it. He was in a wheelchair from the age of 14. He died at 18.’

Her gut clenched with the stark pain of it. ‘John … But … that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.’

His fingers clutched the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles blanched. ‘The doctors always said there was a chance it would be passed down but that it was unlikely. But they never said it wouldn’t happen. I knew that. I knew that when I married her. I knew that when I first made love to her … And I never told her.’

Juliana’s eyes grew hot with threatening tears. ‘But … you can’t let that affect things now. You have three wonderful children.’

‘Do I? Three? You don’t know that.’ His voice caught. The muscle in his jaw worked fast. He pressed his foot on the gas and accelerated impulsively down the road.

‘John. Yes, we do.’ He took the bends at dangerous speeds. ‘Look, you need to take a break. Stop the car.’

And he did. As suddenly as he’d pressed the gas to the floor, he braked, pulling up abruptly so fast she had to brace herself on the dash. John let his head fall back on the headrest and closed his eyes. She’d never seen him like this. His humanity was so palpable at that moment she wanted to reach over and touch him.

But suddenly he opened the door and stepped out. He stood with his hands in his pockets and stared across at the lake they’d stopped beside. Juliana eventually got out and walked tentatively around to join him. ‘Do you want to go for a walk? Take a break?’ she asked.

‘Yes … yeah … alright.’ He took a few steps down the bank towards the lake. She hung back. He turned and looked at her. ‘You can come too.’

He paced quickly down to the lake, as if he were trying to exorcise his demons by marching them out. She struggled to keep up. But once there, he stopped, taking the deepest breath and staring out over the water.

‘John … we’ll get him back.’

‘What if he’s already –‘

‘You can’t say that. You mustn’t let yourself think that.’

He turned full on to her. ‘Do _you_ think he’s dead?’

‘No. No, I really don’t.’ And she didn’t. She could feel it.

‘Helen’s right. It is my fault.’

‘It isn’t. You mustn’t blame yourself.’

‘Not just the disease, but … this whole fucking life. And now … I’m favoured. I’m being promoted, did I tell you? Soon I will be _Oberstgruppenführer_ John Smith. Exalted, glorified.’

‘Then … surely she should be glad of that, at least?’

‘You think rising high in the Nazi hierarchy is a good thing, Miss Crain?’

‘It gives you power. It gives you authority.’

‘Ah. But the higher you rise the more precarious you become, and if you look down … it’s one hell of a long drop.’ He turned and held her eyes. ‘And now the vultures will start to circle like never before. If I put one foot wrong, one tiny move out of place, they will swoop.’

‘But you’ve risen to that position by doing something so good.’

He smirked and furrowed his brows as he watched the mist on the far side of the lake. ‘That counts for nothing. Decency is not a trait which gains you security in the Reich.’ He turned towards her, replaying her words in his head and cocking a teasing eyebrow. ‘You just called me _good_ , Miss Crain. That sounds suspiciously like a compliment.’

She let her head fall with a soft smile.

‘Did you know when you killed George Dixon what impact it would have … the wider impact?’ he asked.

‘Not at the time. I only did it to save Thomas.’

‘You ended up doing a lot more than that.’

‘No … that was you.’ She hesitated and then spoke the truth as she saw it. ‘You were very brave.’

He gave a wry smirk and stared out across the water again. ‘It didn’t seem like bravery at the time, just necessity. And I certainly didn’t feel brave standing in the Volkshalle, hailed as the great saviour. Do you know how I felt?’

She shook her head.

‘I was terrified. Me, Obergruppenfuhrer Smith. I’m not supposed to be terrified, not me. I’m supposed to be the one inflicting the terror.’

She didn’t reply and scuffed at a stone under her foot.

He looked down too and muttered, ‘That’s a world away now … Thank God.’

‘I thought Nazis weren’t allowed to believe in God.’

He glanced at her with the slightest smirk. ‘I don’t. Do you?’

‘No. How can I believe in a God in this world?’

He looked at her. ‘But – not that I realised at the time – I couldn’t have done it without you. Strange, isn’t it? Here we are … two very different people, and yet …’

He let his words trail off. She felt a strange guilt suddenly, a need to regain the status quo. ‘Despite everything, Helen must be so proud of you.’

‘No. She isn’t. Not at all. She sees my rise to power as the cause of Thomas’ actions. That if it wasn’t for my apparent need for glory, he wouldn’t have felt that he was shaming the family. She seems to think I sought it out, that I’ve done it for my own advancement. I thought … I really thought she knew me better.’ The pain which seeped through his usually careful speech was tangible.

‘She’s going through hell. She won’t see things clearly at the moment. You need to talk to her, John, that’s all.’

‘She’d rather talk to a bottle of Scotch than me.’

‘When you return with Thomas … everything will sort itself out.’

‘I’m glad you have such faith in my marriage, Miss Crain. But ever since she found out about Thomas’s illness I’ve noticed a distance, an alienation from me, as if … she was deliberately pushing me away. And … right now … I don’t seem to have the energy or the inclination to push back.’

They stood quietly. Nothing more could be said. Her hand rested close to his. What she did next she did without thinking. Juliana Crain’s innate compulsion for empathy compelled it from her without awareness. She moved her fingers and touched his. Immediately that warm strength she’d felt earlier surged through her. But this time she didn’t move her hand and neither did he. She let the backs of her fingers run up along his and he did not shy away. Neither looked at the other nor down at their hands. It only lasted a few seconds, four or five perhaps, and then she stepped away and drew her arms in tight around her. ‘We should probably carry on.’

Only then did he turn and look at her, and once again she could only see the human. ‘Yes.’

They returned to the car and for a time continued in silence, driving out of Indiana and into Illinois. Eventually, the conversation became more relaxed again, neither wanting to dwell on the painful discussion of before. They had stayed off the main roads and rarely passed other cars. Juliana was intrigued by the changing scenery and different feel of each place they passed through. She couldn’t picture John growing up in a place like this. She turned to look at him. He had revealed so much, and she felt oddly privileged. She did not question his candour. Did other people know him like this, ever? She considered how others perceived him and recalled the conversation with Lucy that time they’d gone shopping.

She was barely aware of looking at him. He kept staring straight ahead but let his mouth tick at the corner into the slightest smile. ‘You’ve gone quiet. And you’re staring at me.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She turned her head away.

‘It means you’re thinking. That can be a dangerous thing, Miss Crain.’

She laughed with wry gentleness. ‘It can.’

‘What are you thinking?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Well, you _can_ , but you may choose not to.’

‘Alright then … I choose not to.’

‘Why not? Is it where I can find Hawthorne Abendsen?’

‘You know I don’t know that.’

He glanced across as if he wasn’t entirely convinced but still let the smile dance on his mouth. ‘What then?’

‘Nothing. It’s embarrassing.’

‘Embarrassing? Well, you have to tell me now. I’m intrigued.’

‘No, really … just something Lucy said once.’ There was a tingle inside her which wouldn’t stop. She found herself compelled onwards.

‘Lucy?’

‘When we were shopping – she was talking about you.’

‘And?’

The tingle had become insistent, poking at her, daring her. So she simply said it: ‘She described you as being “dreadfully handsome”.’

He paused briefly. ‘You were right – that is embarrassing.’

It made her laugh.

‘And how did you respond?’ he continued.

‘I thought it was a terrible thing to say.’

Smith’s eyebrows rose up. ‘Terrible?’

‘It seemed cheap and trivial, considering what you do to people, what your job is.’

‘What did you say to her?’

‘Nothing. It seemed ridiculous to describe a man who organises the destruction of humanity in human terms.’

‘You think I organise the destruction of humanity, Miss Crain?’

‘You’re a Nazi. That’s what Nazis do.’

‘My only aim is to preserve humanity, Miss Crain, specifically the humanity of my own family and those close to me. Isn’t that what we all want? What _you_ want? Isn’t that why you put your own life in constant danger to find out what happened to your sister? Isn’t that why you risked everything to save the life of Joe Blake?’

She curled her arms around her and stared from the window. ‘I said it _seemed_ ridiculous to me.’ She paused, knowing she shouldn’t continue, but she did anyway. ‘Not that it _seems_ ridiculous.’

‘Seemed? Past tense.’ He glanced over but she couldn’t look. ‘And now, in the present? Do you consider me human now?

‘Yes. I do.’

The tingle inside had shifted and now fluttered like a wild bird instead, seemingly feeding off the electrified atmosphere within the car. She stared at his hands, his long fingers coiled around the wheel.

After a while, he said, ‘So therefore you can reassess those human characteristics.’

‘I suppose I can.’

‘So, Miss Crain, that begs the question …’

‘What question?’

‘If Lucy were to describe me to you in that way today – dreadfully handsome – how would you respond?’

She hesitated, not through uncertainty, but because she was enjoying it too much, this little dance, the interaction … the flirtation. The flutter inside was uncontained, potent, and so she indulged it. ‘I would agree with her.’

He turned to her, his eyes widened slightly in surprise. But only briefly, before they darkened with an almost arrogant satisfaction, with a knowing charm. For a moment she allowed herself to hold his gaze and the truth of it robbed her of breath: _dreadfully handsome_.

His lips quirked up briefly before he turned his attention back to the road. ‘Again you flatter me, Miss Crain. Watch out … it’ll go to my head.’

He smiled and so did she. A warm satisfaction sank through her and she settled back in the seat while they drove on into the setting sun. By the time they reached Illinois, it was dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading it. If you have a moment, let me know your thoughts. xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a different chapter, but a necessary one, which not only reminds us of who these characters are but reveals more about them.  
> Warnings: this chapter contains violence and references to sexual assault. Oh, and a gratuitous shower scene.

They found a motel in a place called Watseka, and, once again, signed into two rooms using the same names as before. There was no recognition from the corpulent lady on the desk who barely glanced at them as she handed over the keys, transfixed as she was by ‘Reason and Remorse’, the soap opera set around the lives and loves of a fictional Reich administration department. John and Juliana shared an amused smile.

They ate in a small restaurant. There were other diners but John kept his back to the room and nobody seemed to give them a second glance. They chatted freely, but the conversation lacked the intense frankness of earlier. They were both too tired; they could sense it in each other and respected that.

He walked her slowly back to the motel. This time, her room was on the second floor, his was on the first.

‘How’s your bed?’ she joked. ‘Any need to swap this time?’

He laughed. ‘It seems to be adequate. If I find myself awake in the night I’ll be sure to come knock loudly and demand we switch rooms.’

She laughed and met his eyes. Dark eyes, broad smile. It happened again, that twist inside he’d been trying to ignore all day. He turned his head away, but his mind replayed their conversations, their communion. He had given up trying to pretend … she was very easy to talk to. She was very easy to look at.

He clenched his jaw tight and steadied his breathing. ‘Good night, Miss Crain,’ he said, barely looking at her. ‘I hope you sleep well.’

‘You too, John.’

Did he detect disappointment in her voice? He risked a sidelong glance at her. She wasn’t looking at him. She turned and walked slowly to the steps leading upstairs.

His breath came fast. He clenched his fists tightly, but his gaze could not leave her retreating form: the way she moved her legs, the way her body swayed – not deliberately, he knew that, which made it all the more alluring. At the foot of the stairs, she turned back and looked across at him.

She hesitated, briefly. So did he.

But then John swallowed hard and turned the key in the lock. Without another look back at her, he went inside and closed the door behind him.

He tossed the key on the side table and ran a hand through his hair. Pulling out his wallet, he took out the photograph they’d had taken last VA Day: his smiling children; Thomas in glowing health; the braids of the girls so high on their heads it made him laugh; Helen, serene, hands clasped in lap while he stood behind with his hand resting on her shoulder. He stared at it for as long as he could but the dull thud inside suddenly upended itself so hard it made him nauseous and, rather than placing it on the bedside table as he always did when away from home, he instead buried the photograph in the back of his wallet.

John quickly rid himself of his clothes and went into the bathroom. He turned on the shower but stepped in too quickly and hissed as the hot water almost scalded him. But he soon adjusted to its heat and stood under it, letting the jet hit him with cleansing force.

He held his head up and the conversations of the day ran through his mind with as much force as the water now hit him.

He had told her a great deal, openly, honestly. He could make no sense of it. When had he ever been so candid with anyone? He barely even spoke to Helen in such intimate detail. What was it about Juliana Crain that compelled honesty from people, even him? He had needed to talk, clearly. There was so much in his mind that it had to come out. Here, with her, it had been good, it had been right. Catharsis. He deserved it, didn’t he? He had no shame about that.

Scrubbing hard with the soap, he quickly lathered it up over his body. As he raised his arms to wash them, he noted how the biceps swelled and hardened. He was in good shape, he knew that. His job meant that he needed to stay active and he’d been told in his medical check-ups that he had the physique and fitness levels of a man ten years younger. _Dreadfully handsome_. He allowed himself a faint swell of pride and remembered the look in her eyes when she’d acknowledged it. The soap suds poured down his taut abdomen to pool around his groin. He closed his eyes and saw her sitting beside him in the car, remembered her flirtation – _his_ flirtation – that faint smile on her ripe mouth, her tongue darting out to dampen her lips; he’d noticed even if she hadn’t been aware.

He felt the stirrings of an erection and for a moment considered indulging it. But coming to his senses, he turned the dial so that the water poured out icily cold instead. He gasped in but it had the required effect. Images of Juliana Crain were pushed from his mind and any burgeoning feelings were instantly quashed. He washed hurriedly and got out.

Once in bed, John Smith opened his copy of _Mein Kampf_ and read two chapters intently before going to sleep.

\--xoOox--

He slept, of that he was thankful. If he dreamt he could no longer remember details. He thought perhaps Juliana Crain had been in his dream but was relieved he couldn’t recall.

He would wait until seven thirty then knock on her door as he had done yesterday, but at twenty after there was a knock at his door. He sensed it was her, but tucked his gun into his inside pocket anyway. On opening the door, he was met by that shy smile. He knew now it was done for effect, whether deliberately or as a habit borne from years of it working for her. It worked for her now. He smiled back.

‘Good morning, John.’

‘Hello, Miss Crain. Bright and early.’

‘There’s no point delaying.’

They had a quick breakfast. This was a busier town than the previous one and the diner was bustling with people coming and going. He kept his head down as much as possible but grew wary of anyone who glanced their way. He didn’t like this place.

‘We should get going,’ he said. She looked up in surprise; she still had half a plateful of food.

‘Can I …?’ She indicated her plate but when she looked up at him, she put her knife and fork down and wiped her mouth. ‘OK.’

They were soon on the road again. He wanted to put distance between them and the town. There had been too many people, too many eyes.

‘What’s the plan for today?’

He was staring straight ahead, his eyes focused on the road.

‘John?’

He turned suddenly, roused out of his stupor. ‘Hm?’

‘Where are we trying to get to today?’

‘Well into Iowa, nearly South Dakota.’

‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes.’

He didn’t feel like chatting. But it wasn’t due to her and he felt oddly uncomfortable that she might think it was. He was thinking about Thomas. He’d hoped that the closer he got to him, the more he’d feel him, the more he’d sense he was alive. It hadn’t happened.

He glanced over at Juliana. She was resting her chin on her hand, looking out of the window. She didn’t seem bothered by his lack of conversation. She was a remarkably even-tempered person; he admired that. The early sun caught her hair and gave it a coppery sheen and when she blinked, her dark eyelashes dusted the air. John turned his attention concertedly back to the road.

\--xoOox--

After an hour or so he realised he was going to have to do something. There was a reason he hadn’t liked that place.

‘You’re very quiet,’ she said, but she was only teasing, he could tell. She didn’t mind his silence.

‘Yeah, well … I figured you’d heard enough of my talk yesterday.’

‘I’m happy to listen … if people want to talk.’

He flexed his fingers over the wheel and breathed in hard to focus himself as much as anything. ‘We’re going to have to stop.’

‘Oh? We’ve only been going just over an hour.’

‘Have you seen in the mirror?’

‘Not really.’

‘We’re being followed, Miss Crain.’

She sat up and leaned into him slightly to look into the rear view mirror.

‘I can’t see anything.’

‘Wait til the road straightens out. Green VW truck. It’s been following us since we left Watseka.’

He turned a final bend into a long straight stretch and kept glancing in the rear view mirror. Sure enough, after a few moments, the truck appeared, keeping a steady pace a hundred yards or so behind them. It had had plenty of opportunity to turn off. He’d slowed, he’d sped up; it had maintained its distance, not getting closer, not slipping behind.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

‘Sort it out.’

‘What do you think they want?’

‘I’ll find out.’

She sounded cool, unperturbed. She had, after all, grown used to danger very quickly. He’d made the right decision in bringing her.

He pulled in. They were in a wood, not dense, but with dips and inclines leading away from the road. It would serve the purpose well.

The truck drove past them. Juliana’s chest rose and fell rapidly but she remained calm. ‘They’ve driven on. Perhaps it was nothing.’

‘Wait.’

They waited in silence. Two minutes. And then, the sound of an engine returning down the road. She glanced at him.

‘Do you have a gun?’ he asked.

She shook her head.

He reached into the glove compartment and took out the pistol he kept there. He checked it was loaded (he knew it would be, he was meticulous about these things; he did it more for her to see) and handed it to her. She took it without hesitation, tucking it inside her pocket. He transferred his own revolver to an outside pocket.

The truck appeared and pulled up on the other side of the road.

‘Get out of the car,’ said John. ‘Don’t speak.’

He opened his door and stepped out, keeping half an eye on the truck. Juliana did the same and moved around to stand beside him.

Soon enough, the doors of the truck opened and two people got out: late-twenties, jeans, faded shirts, stubbled faces and caps pulled down. They seemed in no hurry and slammed the truck’s doors shut before making their way across the road.

‘You folks ok?’ called one with a thin, hollowed, yellowing face John recognised as the result of substance abuse.

‘Fine,’ he said flatly. They came closer.

‘You were in Lorraine’s this morning.’

‘I don’t know any Lorraine.’

The man laughed and spat on the ground, his shorter companion came up and stood beside him, his face unmoved. He wore a dead expression behind surprisingly blue eyes which kept flicking to Juliana. John could have sorted the matter then and there but was intrigued as to where it was going.

The first man gave a low chuckle. ‘Lorraine’s diner. You’re not from round here. New York licence plate.’

‘You can read,’ observed John.

He chuckled again but it soon died. ‘And some sass on you. But then, wouldn’t expect no less from high-minded east coast folk. What you doin’ out here?’

‘Business.’

‘Huh. Ain’t no business round here save for shovellin’ pig shit.’

‘That’s what you do, is it?’

The taller man now laughed, a dry, wheeze of a laugh which made John’s fingers curl around the revolver in his pocket.

‘Well, if you’d be so kind as to turn out your pockets and the contents of that fine motor car of yours, we’d be most grateful.’ And with that the man reached inside his long coat and drew out a sawn off shot gun which he pointed straight at John. The other man did the same to Juliana.

John was not shocked or particularly worried, although he darted a look to Juliana to gauge her reaction. Her mouth was set straight and her brows furrowed, but he could see a hardness in her expression which he found pleasing. He found his mouth curling up.

‘I don’t see what’s so funny,’ the man said, coming closer. ‘What you smirkin’ about?’

‘Why have you been following us?’ asked John factually.

‘I’d’a thought that was obvious.’

‘Why us?’

‘I always check with my sister at the motel. She keeps me well-informed of all interesting guests, Mr Johnson … Miss Rivers.’

‘Well, as you know our names, we should know yours.’

The man laughed again. ‘Ain’t no harm in you knowin’ that, seein’ what we’re about to do to you. I don’t imagine you’ll be tellin’ anyone soon. I’m Josiah Saunders, and this here’s Bill Forrester.’ He stepped in closer and aimed the shotgun directly at John’s head. ‘Now, enough of that namby pamby bullshit. Give me your fucking money … and the rest.’

‘Fred … Just do it. I’ll get the stuff in the car.’ Juliana had spoken. It took him a while to realise she was talking to him. Fred. He regretted the choice of name. It didn’t work. But he would worry about that later. He watched her carefully. Her voice was too light, too easy. He grew curious to see what she’d do next.

To calm Josiah, he slowly opened the side of his coat and started to reach for his wallet. He’d have to act now, but needed a way to distract the man first.

Juliana moved to the back door closest to him. She bent in slowly and reached into the car.

Josiah’s eyes flicked to her. ‘Don’t you try nothin’ foolish, girl. Billy here has his gun pointing right at that fine ass of yours.’ He chuckled slightly.

His friend moved round and trained the gun on Juliana. For the first time he spoke. ‘What I would like to do to that ass … Bet the pussy’s just as fine too. I hear New York girls are so wet they don’t barely need ya ta spit on ‘em.’

‘Well, you’re gonna find out soon enough, Billy Boy. I don’t think she’s gonna put up much resistance.’ He nodded to John. ‘You can sit back and enjoy the show.’

Anger rose quickly with bile into his throat and he made to reach for his gun, but just at that moment Juliana’s right leg kicked backwards, one perfect, well-aimed kick which connected straight between Bill’s legs. He let out a stifled grunt of blinding pain and doubled in on himself.

‘Fucking bitch!’ yelled Josiah and turned instinctively towards them. If John hadn’t taken the opportunity to remove the gun from his assailant by twisting it so hard his wrist snapped and then to press his own revolver against his wind pipe, he would have seen Juliana launch herself back, grab Bill by the arm and, with supreme smoothness, hurl him over her shoulder to land with a hard thud on the ground. The next thing John saw when he glanced over was her standing, legs braced, pointing the pistol at Bill’s head as he lay incapacitated and winded.

‘I think perhaps we’ll delay turning out the car. You seem to be a man who enjoys conversation, Mr Saunders. I’d like to get to know you better. Let’s have a little chat somewhere more private.’ He twisted the man’s arms (including the broken one) behind his back. Saunders squealed then whimpered, a sound John recognised very well as complete compliance.

John glanced behind him. Juliana could hold the other man, he knew. Forrester was still lying on the ground with his knees bent up to his groin. She’d removed his shotgun and, as John led Saunders away, had forced him to his feet and was marching him (or rather hobbling him) after them. John found a large tree far from the road and pushed Josiah down so that his back fell against it. He whimpered again. Juliana soon arrived with Forrester. He seemed to be recovering slightly so John ensured his knee connected with his groin with sufficient force to forestall the recovery. It was well-aimed and forced him to the ground against the tree beside his side-kick.

‘Miss Rivers,’ Smith crooned and, without taking his eyes or his revolver off the two men, continued, ‘in the trunk of the car there’s some rope. Fetch it, if you will, please.’

She didn’t hesitate, he noted.

‘Well, gentlemen, this makes a change from shovelling pig shit, I’m sure. You must be thankful of the opportunity.’

‘You fucking son-of-a-bitch,’ spat Saunders through his tears. His wrist was sticking out at a particularly strange angle. John shot him in the ankle for his compliment and he screeched and let his head fall limply forward. He then repeated the gesture on Forrester. They were squealing (Saunders especially) like two of their shit-covered pigs.

Juliana returned shortly with the rope and they were quickly able to tie the two men to the tree. For the first time, he locked eyes with her. In them he read no doubt, in fact they were bright with determination. She tightened the rope.

‘Miss Rivers, if you’d keep your revolver pointing at these two, I have some questions to ask them.’

He leant down. Josiah tried to spit at him but he managed to swerve to avoid it. ‘I wouldn’t recommend that again, Mr Saunders.’ John took a step forward and stood his full weight on the man’s broken wrist. It had the desired effect. ‘Now, as I was saying, I have some questions for you. How do you know our names?’

‘I … I … told you … my sister … at the motel …’

‘What else did she tell you?’

He shook his head, his lower lip trembling, ‘Nothin’, nothin’.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘From Watseka.’

‘Have you always lived there?’

‘Don’t tell him a fuckin’ thing, Josiah!’ said Bill, spitting out his words.

‘Mr Forrester, if you want to keep any semblance of recognisable genitalia, I would suggest keeping your mouth closed.’

‘Yes!’ gasped out Josiah. ‘Lived there all my life! I swear!’

‘Why did you follow us?’

‘I told you … you’re from New York.’

‘That’s not a reason.’

‘It is to me! I fuckin’ hate New York.’

‘Have you ever been there?’

‘No, you fucker!’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Well, how do you know you won’t like it? It has some very fine museums.’

The man threw his head back and wailed.

‘Well … it may not surprise you to learn, gentlemen, that you will not be leaving with any of our possessions today. In fact, it may be quite difficult to leave at all, but you’ll have time to think about how to extricate yourselves from this situation. If and when you do manage to return to your town, I would advise not mentioning this to anyone.’

‘Why the fuck not? You don’t know me,’ tried Josiah.

‘Oh, but you see, Mr Saunders … I may not at the moment, but … I _will_. I will know every single thing about you, about your sister, your mother, your pet fish, what you eat for breakfast, what they want for their birthdays, what route they take to the store. Everything. So, like I said, you will do as I say.’

He turned to the man beside him. ‘And as for you, I think there’s something you need to say.’

Bill sneered. ‘Fuck you.’

‘Not to me, to Miss Rivers here.’

‘Yeah … I’ll tell you what she needs to hear – She needs fucking cock in her tight east coast cunt.’

John gave a slight tut. ‘How disappointing, because it’s exactly that sort of thing that got you into this predicament in the first place.’ He looked up at Juliana. She had done nothing throughout the whole enterprise to stop him or protest. ‘I’d like you to apologise to her.’

‘For what?’ scoffed Forrester.

‘For insulting her.’

‘She needs more fucking insults. Look at her, the desperate slut. She needs my prick ramming into her to fuck the bitch out of her.’

John reached for the knife in his sock and held it first to the man’s throat. Forrester squeezed his eyes shut and gasped in air as the gleaming blade pricked at his skin. ‘Is it something about the men of Watseka, Miss Rivers, do you think? They seem to find it hard to learn basic manners.’ He leaned in and whispered low into the man’s ear so only he could hear. ‘If you don’t fucking apologise to her immediately, you piece of fucking hick shit, you’re not going to have a prick to ram into a fucking dead pig.’

With that, he drew the knife down and sliced open the man’s trousers at his groin. Forrester squirmed back as the tip pressed again the root of his penis and squawked, ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’

‘Better. Perhaps you are learning.’

John drew the knife away but was still close enough to the man to smell his stale breath. Forrester was staring at him, his eyes suddenly narrowed, dawning realisation on his face.

‘I … I know you … I recognise you … I knew I did.’

For the first time, John Smith hesitated.

‘Josiah, Jose … you know who this is?’

Saunders was in no state to respond and just shook his head as it hung down.

‘It’s that fucking Nazi. The one on TV. It’s him, it’s fucking him!’

‘I don’t know … I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,’ muttered Josiah.

‘The one who stopped the fucking war. Him. This fucking Nazi bastard right here. I saw him in the newspaper too.’ He cast his eyes over John’s face with triumphant awareness. ‘Picture of … of you and your wife. It’s just that …’ His eyes flicked to Juliana, and a sneer captured his features. ‘… that ain’t yer wife.’

John drew back and stood, his jaw working fast. ‘Well, that’s a shame … especially after it was all going so well.’ He lifted his finger to scratch the side of his nose. ‘Because now I’m going to have to kill you.’

There was another wail from Josiah.

He turned to Juliana. ‘Why don’t you go back to the car?’

She swallowed. ‘It’s alright.’

He checked his gun, making sure he replaced the spent bullets. ‘I have to deal with this. I won’t be long.’

‘I said it’s alright.’

Josiah started to whimper. A damp patch spread across the front of his pants.

But Forrester looked up, his eyes cold, and locked his gaze into Juliana’s. ‘I guess having a mouth full of Nazi cock’s the only thing that’ll shut you up, you fucking whore.’

Two shots rang out. John had only fired once. Blood from the bullet hole was seeping from Saunders’ head as his rancid body at last slumped lifelessly. He turned his attention to Forrester. He too had a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. He was dead.

John turned to Juliana. She stood, gun still poised, staring down with cool loathing at the lifeless body of the man she’d just shot.

He drew in a deep breath and took a step towards her. ‘Are you alright?’

She nodded and handed him the gun. Her hand juddered slightly but barely. He took it.

‘They had to be killed. They recognised me.’

‘I know.’

‘Thank you. I wasn’t sure how I was going to disarm him to start with.’

She turned to look at him. ‘It seems I can barely go a few days without killing someone.’

He looked at her steadily, and a strange feeling of regret and remembrance tickled through him before he cast it off. ‘You get used to it.’

‘I don’t want to get used to it.’ She hugged her arms into herself. ‘What are we going to do with them?’

He looked around. There was a lake a short way off.

‘Bottom of the lake.’

She glanced at him and nodded.

‘I can do it,’ said John.

‘No, it’ll be quicker if we both do.’

Without speaking, they untied the men, and, one body a time, carried them together to the lake. There was an old rowing boat resting on the shore. It barely looked seaworthy but it would serve a purpose. Once both bodies were by the lake they attached stones to them with the rope and, careful not to get any blood on the boat, rowed out to the middle. There, they pushed them over the side and watched them sink to the bottom.

After getting back to shore, John washed down the blood on and around the tree with a bucket he found in their truck.

They stood, exhausted, damp with sweat. ‘What about the truck?’ asked Juliana.

He thought about leaving it, then went across and climbed in. It reeked of stale beer and sweat. John was relieved he wouldn’t have to scrabble around to jump start it; the keys were in the ignition. He started it and turned it to face down the steep slope of the bank towards a dense wood, invisible from the road. Juliana soon came across. ‘I’ll help push.’

It was a heavy truck; he was grateful to her, he knew she was exhausted after all that had happened. Slipping it into neutral, he moved behind it and together they managed to push it far enough forward for gravity to take over. The truck rolled down the side of the hill and crashed through the trees at the bottom. Unless someone was looking specifically here, it would not be found for some time.

He stood back, hands on hips. ‘Good work. Thank you.’

Juliana let her head hang down, then rolled it around and rubbed the back of her neck. She had a little birthmark near the hairline, he saw, just a tiny one. She turned her head towards him with an apologetic smile. ‘I guess we may not make it into South Dakota after all.’

There was a smear of red across her left cheek. ‘You have some blood … here.’ Instinctively, barely thinking, he reached up and before he knew it, his thumb was stroking across her face. Her eyes moved instantly to his but she did not pull away. If there was a sudden tension in her, it was only in surprise, not outrage. Her skin was so smooth. Smooth and warm, and he could feel the fragile strength of her cheekbone under his touch. He didn’t stop. He rubbed at the mark, managing to stare at it and not straight into her gaze which he could feel penetrating through him.

He noted his breathing growing laboured, and the warmth that simmered in his gut sank lower, lower. He let his hand fall and stepped back, dropping his eyes. ‘That’s a little better. Sorry … I …’

‘No … thank you … it’s fine. Are you alright to drive?’

He raised himself tall. ‘Yes … Let’s get away from here.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are. I'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow and the next the day after that. They're all ready to go. I would love to hear your thoughts, thank you in advance. x


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I've updated quickly so make sure you've read Chapter 6 before this one. x

They barely spoke as they travelled on. Juliana replayed the incident in her head but found she did so with an odd detachment. Out of the people she had killed, the shooting of Bill Forrester had the least effect on her conscience. She looked across at John, his profile stern, his gaze determined. More dreadful than handsome, surely?

But she noted every rise and fall of his chest, she studied the clenching of his jaw muscle and considered the underlying tension it belied, she remarked on the unfeasible length of his eyelashes silhouetted against the window. As much as Juliana Crain fought to deny it, the attraction was stronger than ever.

There had been a sort of macabre allure to the way he had dealt with the men, to the precision and ease with which he extracted submission and dispatched them. For the first time in all the horror of the past few weeks, she could not deny the thrill which surged hot and fast as she had held the gun over the crumpled form of Forrester, a thrill which was only heightened by the gleaming potency of the man beside her.

There was a synergy to what they had done. It had worked like a partnership, a symbiosis which until this moment had lain latent. She had unquestioningly abetted it. She had almost fed off it. How easy it seemed, how natural. She was almost proud.

At this realisation Juliana did at last shudder and turn away. She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing back the emotion and reverting to the reason.

It had been a necessity, no more. The men would have shot them if they had not acted first; if they had not been killed Forrester and Saunders would have informed the authorities of Smith’s whereabouts with a woman matching Juliana Crain’s description. And then what? For them, for Thomas? It had to be done.

Necessity. Was that what her life was now? One big act of necessity?

She looked cautiously at John again; he almost compelled her to. The effort had tired them both and he had removed his coat and undone the two top buttons on his shirt. His sleeves were rolled up and she found herself staring at his forearms, noted the blood running through prominent veins, the hairs dusting them, the long fingers curled around the wheel. How many people had he killed with those hands? She found contemplating it easier than she wished.

And, underlying it all, for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt safe.

\--xoOox--

They made it through much of Iowa but no further, this time stopping at as small a town as they could find with a motel. They were once again given rooms adjacent to each other.

‘Is there some place to eat here?’ John asked the receptionist.

‘Not usually, not much call for it, but you’re in luck tonight. They’re serving food at Frank’s Bar ‘cause there’s a band from out of county playing.’

‘Is that the only place?’ John was terse.

‘Yup. Not much excitement to be had round here, I’m afraid.’

‘That’s OK. We’ll manage,’ Juliana added with a smile as she took the keys.

They walked back to the car. ‘It’ll be busy, this bar,’ he said, his brows furrowed in annoyance.

‘Yes, but they’ll be having a good time and won’t be bothered about us. And it’ll probably be dimly lit. I’m starving – I need to eat and I’m sure you do too.’

He stuck his hands deep in his pocket and looked down at the ground. ‘Yeah, OK … it doesn’t seem like there’s any choice.’

‘I need to shower. Give me half an hour.’

He glanced her way and nodded. ‘I’ll see you out here in thirty minutes.’

In the half light of evening, the shadows made his face softer than earlier. She found herself staring again and forced herself away into her room.

Juliana took longer in the shower than she intended, but she needed to wash the day away, wash out the blood and sweat and grime of death. As the water poured down, hot and cleansing, she didn’t want to get out. If she could stay there forever, perhaps the water would take it all with it: shame, anxiety, excitement …

She got out and dressed. Juliana studied herself in the mirror, applying her lipstick with careful deliberation, adjusting her hair. She put on a red cotton dress which fitted tight around the waist then wafted out to the knees. It was in a similar style to a favourite of Frank’s; she knew this from his glances of appreciation but no spoken compliments, which his self-absorption had rarely allowed for.

She wore perfume, the first time on the trip, and, after thirty minutes exactly, she was standing outside. His door opened a few moments later and his cologne wafted across to her, not overpowering, just that light lemony musk. She inhaled deeply for more. When he came closer she got it. Underneath it, he smelt freshly clean. A different shirt but the top button was still undone.

Juliana suddenly grew aware of what she was wearing; it was a little too much. She dropped her head with an embarrassed laugh. ‘I thought I should make an effort. It sounds like this is a big deal round here.’

He was looking at her, she knew, although she daren’t raise her head. ‘I guess it is,’ he commented. ‘It’s … nice … your dress.’

‘Thank you.’ She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

‘We should …’ He indicated down the road, which ran beside a river. It was obvious where the bar was: a neon sign with ‘Frank’s Bar’ hanging over the door made it abundantly clear. But its lure was the warm glow emanating from the windows and the sound of laughter rippling towards them down the street.

She stepped out ahead of him, hands clutched before her, but he soon kept pace beside her.

Once outside the bar, John hesitated. ‘Is everything ok?’ she asked gently.

‘It was quite a day, Miss Crain.’

‘I thought you were used to that sort of thing.’

He looked at her and for a moment she felt that sheen of intimidation she recalled so acutely the first time he’d addressed her. But his face relaxed and she was held once again in those preternatural eyes.

‘I _am_ used to it, Miss Crain … but maybe, just like you, I’d rather not be.’

He stared into her and the fearsome beauty of him, the sheer clarity of his truth, robbed her of breath.

Juliana struggled to compose her thoughts. ‘Perhaps … perhaps this will help us take our minds off it … just for an hour or so.’

He shrugged with a rueful smile then held his hand out towards the door. ‘After you.’

They walked into a place which, beyond the music and the busyness, exuded human warmth. Couples sat at tables, leaning into each other. The barman joked with customers, the band, a small group of smiling musicians, played swing with a verve and love of life she could sense immediately. The lights were low, and there were corners of dark intimacy where lovers leaned in to exchange whispered promises and fantasies. Juliana found herself smiling. It reminded her of school dances, reminded her of warm, balmy evenings of dancing until late and stolen kisses. She felt herself blushing, especially with John beside her.

‘Table for just the two of you. A corner table, I guess?’ A smiling waitress approached. Her stare fell on John, and Juliana saw the deepening of the girl’s smile and the deliberate attempt to hold his eyes.

A flare of undeniable possessiveness dashed through her and she saw no reason not to deal with it. Juliana stepped closer into him and smiled up. ‘Yes, thank you, we’d like that, wouldn’t we?’ she declared. He turned, and if he was surprised at her sudden show of familiarity, he only indulged it by smiling down at her with a natural geniality that bordered on open affection. She almost slipped her fingers through his – she was caught up in the moment, she told herself – but didn’t.

‘Follow me,’ the girl said, although she only addressed it to John. The waitress sashayed – there was no other way to describe it – to a corner tucked away from others, although everybody seemed so engrossed in their own worlds that nobody lifted a head as they passed. The girl put the menus down in front of them. ‘It’s table service tonight so I can fetch your drinks and there’s also food on offer. I’d go for the meatloaf – very tasty.’ She bit her lip and eyed John again. His head was down looking at the menu.

Juliana smirked to herself and asked for red wine. The girl shook her head. ‘Uh uh, no can do. Beer or spirits.’

‘I’ll have a beer then, thanks.’

‘And for me, thank you,’ John added, still staring at the menu. The girl hovered for a moment longer as if he might look up at her, but he didn’t. Eventually, she gave up and went over to the bar.

Juliana couldn’t help laughing.

‘What’s so funny, Miss Crain?’

‘Didn’t you notice?’

He at last raised his head from the menu. ‘Notice what?’

‘The waitress. She was all over you like a rash.’

His face creased. ‘Sounds unpleasant.’

‘Do you not notice when women find you attractive?’

She had embarrassed him. He averted his eyes and scoffed out a laugh. ‘I don’t tend to mention it if I do.’

The waitress reappeared with the drinks. ‘Here you go.’ She put Juliana’s down awkwardly, managing to spill some on her hand, but immediately turned to John. ‘And for you, sir.’

‘Thank you.’ This time he turned his face up and fixed her with his gaze and half-smile, which Juliana knew would make her belly flip. ‘Busy night, …? I don’t your name.’

The girl simpered and leaned a hand on the table, angling herself towards him. ‘Lucille.’

‘Busy night, Lucille?’

‘Oh, never too busy for some people, sir. Where are you from?’

‘New York.’

‘Wow! Do you work in the city?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘What’s your job?’

He narrowed his eyes somewhat. ‘I’m in … personnel.’

‘Sounds exciting.’

‘Oh, like you’d never believe.’

The waitress dampened her lips. ‘Well, if you’d like me to show you our little town, I’d be more than happy to.’

‘Thank you, but we’re heading out tomorrow.’

‘I’m real sorry to hear that, sir. Real sorry.’

‘We have lots to do,’ he said and then looked straight at Juliana. ‘Don’t we, honey?’

She took it. She ignored the sudden rush of elation and instead went along with smooth deception. ‘We do, sweetheart. Early start.’ His hand was resting on the table. As smoothly as she’d started it, she carried on. Juliana reached over and closed her fingers over his. Immediately, he turned his hand over and curled his fingers around hers. They were warm and assured.

The waitress removed her hand from the table and stood up straight. ‘Can I take your food order?’ Her voice was suddenly brittle and she glared at them both.

‘I’ll have the pork chops, thank you,’ smiled Juliana.

‘And the chicken for me.’ John handed her the menu with his free hand. She gave the coldest of smiles and left.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes to Juliana’s and after a moment where she was locked into them, she dropped her head in a spluttered laugh. ‘That was cruel.’

‘Well, as you so often remind me, Miss Crain … I am cruel.’

The smile left her face. ‘But that’s not entirely true, is it?’

He swallowed hard and took a drink of beer. ‘Life has a way of guiding you down paths you have no option but to tread.’

‘That doesn’t mean you can’t wonder where those other paths might have led. It doesn’t mean you might not wish you were on the other paths instead.’

She felt something rubbing her hand and looked down. Distractedly, unaware, he was running his thumb over her forefinger. They had not let go of each other. She stared at where his thumb moved along her and at length, he followed her gaze. But he didn’t stop. For endless long seconds, he held her hand and stroked it. But then, as if awakening from a dream, he sat up straight and drew his hand away. She quickly pulled hers back and tucked both her hands in her lap.

Smith looked behind him towards the bar. ‘I’m starving. I hope it’s not long.’

‘The band’s doing a good job.’ They were halfway through Chattanooga Choo Choo. She smiled. ‘My dad loved this song. He used to sing it – very out of tune, I have to say. It’s one of the strongest memories I have of him.’

‘I haven’t heard this in a long time.’

‘No one hears much anymore.’

‘No … that’s the way it is.’ He said it wistfully rather than assertively.

They drank quietly for a while, those calm silences which no one minds, but at length she asked gently, ‘Have you lived in New York since the end of the war?’

He shook his head. ‘No. We were in Cincinnati for a while.’

‘Oh? Not far from here then.’

‘True.’

‘Did you like it there?’

‘Mostly.’

‘Why did you leave?’

‘Work.’

He took another drink. It was clear he was not going to be saying more on the matter.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said instinctively.

‘What for?’

‘I shouldn’t pry.’

He didn’t reply for a time and she felt shame niggle her. But then, with the same charming croon he’d used while torturing the men earlier, he said, ‘I pry all the time, Miss Crain. My influence is clearly rubbing off. You’ll be after my job next.’ She looked up to be met with a hint of a smirk before he took another drink, staring at her all the time over the rim of the glass. She held his gaze and realised when it started to hurt that she was biting her lip.

The food arrived. The waitress had dispensed with the flirtation and set it down quickly.

John reached for his napkin and looked down at his plate with almost childlike glee. ‘Sustenance at last! Tuck in, Miss Crain.’

They talked little as they ate; the events of the day had resulted in a desperate hunger which they only now realised.

While they ate, couples started to move onto the dance floor. Juliana watched them, at first with detachment, but as the evening wore on, she became envious. It had been so long.

The singer called down the microphone, ‘Just a few more songs left, folks, take hold of someone, anyone, and drag them onto the floor. What have you got to lose?’

She glanced at John. Either he hadn’t heard or was deliberately ignoring it. She crossed her arms and chided herself for imagining she could dance with a man who, even now, even after everything, would slit her throat should she make one false move. A man who had done unspeakable things, things which would make the events of today seem like swatting flies.

She watched him as he finished the last of his meal. Why then, if he was the dangerous enforcer, did she feel so safe with him? Juliana could only acknowledge that, within the constraints of the strange situation she found herself in, she trusted him. Perhaps she was a fool to, but she did.

He finished his last mouthful and wiped his mouth carefully. He pointed at her glass. ‘Would you like another drink?’

‘Sure, why not?’

John got up and returned shortly after with another beer for her and himself. Their glasses were soon half empty. She’d assumed he’d want to leave after eating, but he seemed in no rush. They were anonymous here and it was all so _normal_ – away from the Japanese, away from the Reich, away from it all. Even if he was disinterested, he was relaxing more as the evening progressed.

A couple returned to a table next to them, their arms slung around each other, their laughter heady with love. The woman leant down, drunk but happy. ‘Hey, you two, you’re gonna miss your chance! The band’s packing up soon – what’re you waitin’ for?’

John held up a hand. ‘We’re fine, thanks.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that. You wanna dance, don’t you, hon?’ The woman leaned over to Juliana who shook her head slightly to ward them off.

‘That’s alright.’

‘Aw, go on! What sort of a guy have you got here who won’t get you up dancin’?’

‘He’s not my … never mind.’ She crossed her arms and wished they’d go away.

‘Come on!’ The woman turned her attention to John. ‘You’ve got the most beautiful girl in the state right here and all you can do is sit there? What’ve you got arms and legs for?’

She at last swayed away with a raucous laugh, clinging to her man. John and Juliana glanced at each other with embarrassed grins. They said nothing for a moment.

John started tapping his fingers on the table, drumming them rhythmically. She wished he wouldn’t.

‘I suppose …’ he started, then stopped.

‘What?’

‘I suppose … we could … if you want …’

‘I want what?’

‘Would you like to …’ He nodded towards the dancing as if afraid to say the word, but then, with complete candour he asked, ‘Would you like to dance, Miss Crain?’

She tried to hide her smile. ‘If you want.’

‘We would appear to be the only people in the room not doing so, so … on balance … it would seem appropriate.’

‘Appropriate? You’re asking me to dance because it’s appropriate?’

‘Partly.’

‘And the other part?’

‘And partly because …’ He at last met her eyes. ‘Because I want to.’

Their gazes burned a path between them. ‘Yes. I want to as well.’

And then, not breaking eye contact, he stood up and held his hand down to hers. Juliana took it and let him lead her with a slowness – almost painful in its sensuality – onto the dancefloor.

The band was playing a lively Cole Porter song. Light swing was tolerated in the Reich. Most jazz – the music Juliana had only a dim memory of from her childhood – was banned, but this would do perfectly well. After a moment of awkwardness when they weren’t quite sure how to begin, he slid his hand around her waist and held his other out for her to take, which she did. Juliana placed her other hand on his shoulder and they started to move. It was such an extraordinary situation that she laughed aloud.

She had forgotten. She had forgotten how to laugh, how to have fun. He moved well and kept his eyes trained on her the whole time. The embarrassment she thought she’d feel, as much for him as for her, didn’t emerge and she relaxed into the moment. All around them people were happy, people had forgotten their troubles, forgotten that they were living in a half world, a world of censure and restriction. And so Juliana did too. Somewhere, not far away, the ghost of Bill Forrester lurked, fresh from his watery grave, but tonight she ignored him, tonight, she looked up into the eyes of John Smith, a former captain in the US Army, and let him turn her.

He moved with a natural rhythm and, as the song ended, spun her under his arm. She whooped with surprise and descended into laughter with the relief of not landing flat on her face. He smiled at her with both his lips and his eyes.

That would be it, they would return to their table, but the dance floor was busy and there was no obvious way off it. The singer reached for the microphone and announced, ‘Well, folks, it’s been our pleasure to play for you tonight here at Frank’s. Be sure to come see us again on our travels round this beautiful state of Iowa. And now, take hold of that special someone for our last song. Don’t be shy. You know you want to.’

They began to play a song well-known to all, one which had transcended boundaries during the war. They were playing Lili Marlene. She glanced at John. He had not moved. She assumed she should turn and go, but just as she was about to, he stepped in and slipped his hand around her waist again and drew her into him.

She hadn’t felt it during the first song, but now her stomach almost heaved from her, her breathing stuttered, and her heart beat so loudly she wondered if everyone would hear.

She reached up to his shoulder again and let him clutch her hand. She dared a glance up. He met her eyes briefly and then started to move her.

 _We will create a world for two_  
_I'll wait for you the whole night through_  
_For you, Lili Marlene_  
_For you, Lili Marlene_

The song drifted on, slow and sensuous. He drew her hand closer in which pulled her whole length tighter against him. She could smell him, feel his strength against her. His shoulder was strong under her fingertips, his broad chest so close she wanted to …

Juliana closed her eyes and, in their own world created for two, laid her head against his chest.

He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t falter. His hand splayed on her lower back and he pressed her in against him. They danced there, like long-time lovers, and nobody else needed know the truth that the two people clasped desperately together might one day destroy the other.

Juliana drifted against him, her ear pressed close enough not only to hear his heartbeat but to feel it – real, human. Had she ever doubted? She clung to him as if the ground would slip from under her if she did not.

Eventually the song drifted to a close and, if either of them had been aware, she would have realised that the couples were leaving the floor, the band were finished. But the two of them did not part. He moved slowly, barely, and she moved with him, so close as to be indistinguishable.

And then, suddenly, there was brightness.

‘OK, folks, that’s all for tonight. Ain’t you got homes to go to?’

The lights had come on full. Out of necessity, she lifted her head from him and pulled back a little. His hand relaxed on her back but did not leave it. She almost didn’t dare look at him, but she lifted her head. He did not meet her eyes but stared down at a point somewhere beneath her chin. He was breathing heavily and still held her.

‘Sorry, you two, but we really have to close now. Can I ask you to pay up and make your way out the door?’ A man had appeared beside them, his mouth pursed.

Juliana turned blearily to the manager and at last John and she fell apart.

She smiled softly and murmured, ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’ The overhead lights were painfully bright and glared oppressively. She turned back to the table to get her coat and scrabbled for it, unsure of what had just happened. John crossed to the bar and paid then came over and, without speaking, picked up his own coat. She risked a look at him. His face was sombre and he did not meet her eyes.

They went out and she gulped in the cool night air. Glancing up, the stars were out, thousands of them against the inky blackness.

They began to walk back to the motel. It took them past the river. The water gurgled and flowed, She hoped it would soothe the heated intensity still burning inside, but she only found her breathing ragged and her heart racing still.

Someone had to speak, she couldn’t stand it. ‘Thank you for tonight.’

He stopped suddenly and held his head up a little. ‘It’s fine.’

‘I haven’t danced for a long time.’

‘Neither have I. Not like that.’

She was grateful for the conversation but the tension between them was as heightened as ever. And she could not escape his cologne, as restrained as it was.

‘This has been … quite an extraordinary day,’ she added.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s strange but … I don’t seem to be dwelling on it.’

They paused by the river. He stared out over it, not looking at her. ‘That’s because it was necessary. It had a reason. As everything should.’

‘I told myself something similar earlier.’

‘Then it makes sense. Don’t dwell on it, Miss Crain. I tell you that through experience.’

‘Is that how you cope, John? You don’t dwell on it?’

He paused briefly before saying, ‘You know that’s how I cope.’

They had stopped just opposite the motel, but they stood there as the moonlight caught the ripples of the river with silver fluidity. Neither spoke any more. She remembered his body under her fingers, under her head, the thud of his heartbeat. He was so close now. No one was around, no one was near. She wanted it again so badly it hurt, it burned her.

‘Good night, John,’ she said and turned away from him.

His hand encircled her wrist so quickly she didn’t at first realise what it was.

She looked down. He was holding onto her, not hard, not aggressively, but with palpable need. She could have pulled out of his grasp but she allowed herself to be held back by him. And she could have turned to him, pressed herself against him, run her hands around his neck and pulled him into her.

But she found herself frozen; the sudden reality of what could be was paralysing. He drew his gaze from where he had been staring at his hand up to her eyes. She read such raw torment in him she nearly wept.

And then, with a shudder of breath, John Smith closed his eyes, let go of her arm and turned his back on her.

Juliana stood for a heartbeat more, then took his confusion, bled it with her own, and rushed across the street to the motel.

\--xoOox--

Juliana shut the door hard and stood in her room recovering her breath. She stood stock still with her eyes closed and let the impressions of the day flash through like the films of the Man in the High Castle. Rear view mirror, shotgun, wrist, rope, pistol, blood, boat, truck, profile, eyes, cologne, beer, dance, cologne, eyes, hands … eyes …

With a gasp of breath, she tore her eyes open and glanced around. The room was empty, barren, and she was suddenly hopelessly and cripplingly alone. She clutched her arms around her and, as she stood there, heard the click of the door of the room next to hers closing.

She stood for a moment longer, almost enjoying the anticipation, although she had already decided.

After one minute more, she would wait no longer.

Juliana left her room, closing the door quietly behind her. She moved to the room next door, and with barely a pause, raised her hand and knocked three times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh.
> 
> So close ... I'll be posting tomorrow. 
> 
> As ever, your reviews feed my muse. I loved writing this chapter and would love to know what you thought. xx


	8. Chapter 8

John Smith had barely entered his hotel room when the three knocks came.

For a time he remained standing with his back to the door, but only to allow the moment to ground itself.

His eyes took in the space around him. The room, the motel, the town were all indefinable to him. This place, isolated, no connections, no connotations. Only him and her. And that was enough, he told himself. There was the justification.

He turned, crossed to the door and opened it.

Juliana Crain stood outside, her head turned downwards in that familiar way but this time without the smile. She lifted her chin and looked him full in the eyes. In them he read only certainty.

She stepped into the room and he closed it behind her, enclosing them together in the space.

John paused briefly with his fingers around the handle and heard his own breath fast through his nose. Reaching up, he linked the chain across the door and then turned to face her.

Juliana was standing simply looking at him, but her chest rose and fell as fast as his. She wore the same dress as earlier; he had called it _nice_ – pathetically inadequate.

He took three paces closer but could not bring himself to look at or touch her. She had come to him. She would have to be the one to begin it; he would at least give that nod to his fidelity.

And she did begin it. Slowly, Juliana brought her hand to his shoulder as if they were on the dance floor again. He felt each finger as soft and assured as before. But this time it didn’t rest there. She drew her hand down with aching sensuality, down over the rise of his chest, down over his abdomen, until she reached his belt.

She raised her head and now he met her eyes. Her expression immediately altered from one of tender curiosity to that of need: brows furrowed, mouth open. Her fingers started to pull at the buckle and she became desperate, scrabbling at it, tugging out the belt and undoing the button. Doubt evaporated. Her desperation became his. He had been hard since she’d knocked on the door, and now his frantic arousal pained him.

It had to happen. Before anything else – before words, before thought – it had to happen.

He moved suddenly, aiding her impatient fingers as they clawed for his release. He unzipped himself and pushed down his trunks. As they staggered the few steps to the bed, he pulled up her skirts and hooked his fingers around her underwear, tugging it from her. She fell back on the bed. He was over her, between her legs. Their eyes met. He thrust and was inside her.

There.

_There_.

Her eyes widened and her lips formed an awed O of surprise. Their breaths were held and they just felt. Inside. Embedded.

_But, oh God, it was good_.

He swallowed and had to move, just a little, pushing himself deeper still. She gasped but caught it; neither wanted to break the moment. They were both held on a pin head, a perfect point in time where nothing else existed.

Only then, only when they had both absorbed the reality of their union, did he start to withdraw, slowly, agonisingly slowly, so as to torment them both with the anticipation.

Her hands moved to touch his face and she stroked his cheekbones with her thumbs, but then she slid her fingers through his hair and held him hard, staring into him, taking all he was.

He’d withdrawn and only the head of his cock remained nestled in the warm succulence of her body. But he needed that sense of enclosure and so he pushed in, slowly again, idly almost, allowing her to swallow every inch of him so that pleasure tightened its grip inexorably. But he didn’t rush. He would indulge himself, he would savour every push and pull, he would relish the glove-like hold this woman had on him.

As he pushed up through again, her expression relaxed and she released a breath of absolute satisfaction.

‘Good,’ she exhaled, that was all. The first word either of them had said.

‘Good,’ he repeated. Still she gripped his head, her fingers knotted through his hair, her nails digging into his scalp. He wanted it.

John reached under her left leg and hooked it over his arm so that he could work himself in her more exactly. He pushed fully in, staring down at where he’d entered her, angling his body to penetrate as deeply as possible. Her brows knitted together briefly and pleasure flittered across her beautiful face. ‘Ohh!’ she gasped, a quick, snatched breath.

He steadied himself again, high inside her, warm, cossetted, embedded. If he moved fast, he would finish too quickly; she was too perfect.

But she bucked a little, seeking out the feel of him, wanting it. ‘Please,’ she murmured, barely audible. ‘Please move.’

How easy it would be, how good it would feel, but he resisted, an art he had perfected over the years.

‘No. Wait.’

She frowned in frustration and tightened around him. He swallowed back the spike of threatening ecstasy.

Then, as slow as before, he pulled back before pushing into her once more. ‘Slowly,’ he said and was pleased with his provocative tone.

She gave a frustrated moan and the sound was as good as the feel of her pussy gripping him. Her hands moved from his head to his back but she held him as tight as before.

‘Slowly,’ he said again, so low it was more a rumble, and retreated before letting her absorb him again when he thrust forward. He started to build a rhythm, moving in her more regularly yet still with measured deliberation.

She breathed hard, controlling it, pacing her own pleasure. _But_ , _fuck_ , _she_ _felt_ _incredible_. He let out a groan of his own and his eyes closed briefly. Tightness, new, wet tightness pulling him in. He had forgotten what it could feel like. The surge towards ecstasy was unstoppable and he would have to let it take him.

He reached down and carefully worked his fingers between her legs, seeking out her clit just above where he drove himself in and out of her. She tried to sit up with a jolt and her eyes rolled back in her head. ‘Yes!’ she cried. He circled the hard nub, quickly gauging her perfect amount of pressure.

‘There?’

‘Yes, there, right there.’ She scrabbled for his arm, ensuring he kept his hand on her.

He allowed himself to move faster now, pressing fully into her before withdrawing only to thrust hard back, but never neglecting to stroke and rub.

‘John!’ she gasped suddenly and met his eyes. Her mouth opened to release a strange abandoned whine. She was coming hard, he felt it. The power of her orgasm clamped on him as her whine rose into a wail.

With that, he was gone. He thrust powerfully forward with a harsh grunt and came hard, stronger than he could ever remember, emptying himself deep inside her in long, shooting bursts. The climax blinded him with its force.

When pleasure had seeped its way out of them both and he blinked awareness back into himself, he searched for her gaze. She was staring at him with something approaching revelation. Raising a hand, she cupped his face and stroked softly with a single fingertip. For a time, neither spoke, but then, almost sending it as a thought, she whispered, ‘I want you to kiss me.’

He hadn’t yet, he realised, and was almost shamed.

And so he lowered himself and brought his lips to hers. Despite being buried deep inside her, it was a chaste kiss to start with, soft, tentative, as if they barely dared. But she tasted too good, she was too ripe under him, and so he moved his mouth and opened hers. She responded instantly and pressed up against him, teasing with her tongue, which he took. He curled a hand around her head, angling it, deepening, and soon he was kissing her with such passion it robbed him of sense. Open mouthed, tongue searching, breathing through her, he wanted to push himself into her mouth as he had pushed himself into her body.

At length, when they were both gasping for air, he drew back and stared down at her, stroking her hair from her face.

They were both still fully dressed.

He had softened enough that he fell out and reluctantly he rolled over to lie on the bed beside her. They stared up at the ceiling.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she murmured.

‘Then don’t speak.’

‘Do you wish we hadn’t?’

‘No.’

Her face seemed tense, as if she doubted him, and so, with tender sensuality, he reached over and undid the buttons on her dress, glancing up at her as each in turn was released. The tension in her expression melted. She knelt up and helped him remove the dress and then turned her attention to his shirt, slipping the buttons out with a teasing deliberation which made him pull her in for another kiss, brutal in its need. He was soon naked.

It had been over 18 years since a woman other than his wife had seen him without clothing. Only now did he feel the prod of guilt, but when Juliana Crain reached round and unhooked her bra to reveal her breasts, he forgot it.

She smiled softly, a deepening of that hooded smile he found so intensely alluring. He drew her down onto the bed and kissed her again, softer this time, capturing her bottom lip in his, teasing her tongue; he wasn’t sure he could ever stop kissing her. He stroked a hand down her body, relishing its inclines, the dip of her waist, the rise of her hips. He wanted to hear her come again, it had been too good, too nourishing, and so he pulled away from her mouth and dragged his mouth down her neck, ghosting over her silky hot skin to close around a nipple. It sat hard and needy in his mouth and he suckled on it with immediate hunger, rolling it on his tongue, teasing it, flicking. She moaned her assent and coiled her fingers through his hair to hold him there.

His hand meanwhile had worked its way between her legs. She was slick from their coupling but he craved the feel of her and so he parted her lips and found her clit.

Still sucking on her nipple, he now plucked and circled and rubbed the tight kernel. She whined in approval and pushed onto his hand, bucking up into him, twining her fingers through his hair to push him harder yet against her breast. He loved the sound of her pleasure; the sighs, the little gasps, the noises of pure abandon – it was not something he had heard for some time. He angled his hand and pressed two fingers hard up into her, prompting her to push down to meet them. He kept them there, feeling her, tapping, rubbing, scissoring them. Letting the nipple pop from his mouth, he turned his head and read her expressions: what she liked, what she didn’t, what she needed. It had been so long since he’d discovered a new lover, and had one ever been as responsive as this?

He dragged his fingers out to return to her clit and rubbed hard; she was ready. It didn’t take long. He took the other nipple this time and almost immediately she came apart on his fingers, pushing her breast hard into his mouth while moaning out her orgasm. He felt the intense judder of pleasure through her body as hard as before.

He at last drew away from her. She was grinning up at him with a blearily sated smile, panting hard in the aftermath of rapture. ‘Oh God, that was so good, so incredibly good. But now I owe you: two to one.’

He fell back on the bed with a smirk. ‘Give me time, Miss Crain.’

She let out a soft laugh but said quite seriously, ‘You can call me by my first name, you know.’

He chose not to reply.

She turned and lay against his chest, sliding her hand across it to curl around his ribs. He pulled the covers over them and, in secure silence, they fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we have it. But this story still has a long way to go ...
> 
> Thank you for all the fabulous reviews. If you'd care to leave one on this chapter, you'd make little smut-addled me very happy. 
> 
> But, Ohhhhhhhhbergruppenfuhrer ... He is so damn good.


	9. Chapter 9

Juliana woke a few hours later. At first she couldn’t work out where she was. In that half-time between sleep and awakening, she tried to make sense of the assimilation of light and dark around her, making it fit into her memories. Car, dancing, motel room … John Smith.

She turned her head cautiously, half expecting him not to be there. He was there. He lay, asleep apparently, but almost as soon as she looked, his eyes opened slowly and met hers.

They stared into each other silently for a time, still, as if it would all vanish if they stirred, and then he moved and kissed her again, needing it, seeking it. He kissed so well, she admitted – had she not expected that? – and she opened for him, taking his tongue, wanting that connection, the certainty of penetration. Soon he was between her legs, soon she was curling them around him, and he was inside her again. Without a word, which she neither wanted nor expected, he moved steadily and brought them both to beating climaxes. This time they fell asleep still joined.

Only dawn woke them. She needed the bathroom and struggled to disentangle her legs from his. Managing it with only the faintest titter, she seemed not to disturb him and padded on silent feet across the room.

Juliana returned after a shower and found him sitting on the edge of the bed. He was leaning forward, tense, and something caught her inside, but when he looked over at her, he gave her a brief but soft smile and she managed to return it.

‘Can I …?’ He indicated the bathroom.

‘Yes … of course.’ She stepped aside and, clearing his throat, he walked in past her and shut the door.

Juliana drew in a staggering breath and applied herself to getting ready.

When he came out, he dressed quickly, not saying a word.

It was oppressive. The room seemed smaller and closed in on them, two great looming souls whose presence overwhelmed the other. She couldn’t stand it.

‘John … I –‘

‘That can’t happen again.’ He interrupted her sharply, as if back in uniform, assuming control, shutting it down.

She didn’t reply.

‘It can’t. You know why.’ His tone was this time more measured, his humanity creeping back.

She hung her head, whether through apology or despair, she wasn’t sure, but it was hurting more than reason should have allowed. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry, just … it can’t.’ She glanced up at him and he met her gaze briefly before removing it. She pictured him in his house, surrounded by his family. She pictured him beside Helen. Helen, who had treated her with nothing but kindness and acceptance, whatever her motive.

Guilt took hold for the first time and she accepted his regret. ‘I don’t want you to think I expected it.’

He swallowed and then said, ‘You didn’t. I wanted it.’

Her belly flipped again, treacherous. ‘So did I,’ she murmured and she remembered his desperation, hers, the warmth of his skin, the strength of him inside her. _Good_.

‘But … no more.’ He stood straight.

‘Of course.’

‘You agree?’ He tried to sound convinced but didn’t entirely manage it.

‘Yes,’ she said emphatically, for her as much as him.

‘Right. Then, let’s … carry on.’

‘I’ll go sort my stuff.’

She moved towards the door but as she walked past him he put out his hand to stop her. ‘I don’t mean it wasn’t good.’

‘I know.’

‘It _was_ good.’

‘Yes … it was.’ He was still holding her arm but then let go of it as quickly as he’d reached for her.

‘John … we should get going.’

‘Yes.’ He looked around blankly, then picked up his things.

\--xoOox--

They drove on for some time in silence. And now it was awkward. She had had awkward post-sex silences before: the breakfast where you can barely ask for the orange juice, the walk to the door in silence because it had been boring at best, unbearable at worst. But this silence wasn’t like that. This was different, but she tried to pretend otherwise.

She regretted it now. Not the doing of it – it had been too good to regret that – but the change it had wrought between them. And that in itself disturbed her. Had she become that used to him so quickly, that comfortable with him? Their conversation had become so easy, their silences had been cosseting rather than awkward. And now, suddenly, desperately, she missed him, all of him. His teases, his wry remarks, and already, which she hated to acknowledge – she missed his touch. She had had it all night and already she missed it. The hollowness returned and her gut ached.

She resorted to banality. ‘How much longer do you think?’ she asked. They were well into South Dakota. After this it was Montana and, hopefully, Thomas.

‘We should reach it tomorrow.’ He invited no further comment.

She lifted her hand to her mouth and bit at her nails distractedly.

They stopped briefly for fuel and food but neither ate much. The weather began to change as they carried on, clouds gathered and a dark oppressiveness hung in the sky, adding to the palpable tension inside the car.

She pretended to study the clouds intently. ‘Looks like it’ll rain.’ Her words hung pointlessly between them.

‘Hm.’

She wanted to look at him, to study that immaculate profile, to read those deep eyes, but she daren’t. And he would not indulge her anyway. He had shut it out, closed them down. It was right that way. Guilt, regret, too much. She accepted that.

_Shut it down._

But the emptiness inside was so acute that she curled her arms around her to contain it. When she inhaled she could smell his cologne, and beyond that, the smell of him, his skin, his being, the same smell she had smelt and tasted last night as he had enveloped her, as he had entered her, moved inside her, made her cry out. Clasping her arms around her also prevented her from reaching across to recapture it.

They drove on. It did start to rain, heavily. The wipers beat relentlessly across the glass but the road was straight and clear. Further silence save for the lash of rain and thud of blades.

And then, quite suddenly, he pulled in and stopped.

She didn’t ask why. She knew.

He sat, staring ahead for a time, but then turned and looked at her.

She would have reached for him if he hadn’t moved first, clasping her head and plunging his mouth to hers.

She opened for him and he kissed her with a brutal passion which intoxicated her.

_No. Don’t shut it down._

And that had been the silence, not a silence of regret, but a silence of deceit. One night was not enough, and they both knew it.

The desperation took hold again, the need to have him inside her, for him to be inside her. Part of her wanted to slow it down but she wanted so much it hurt. She wanted to feel him again, touch him again, have him again.

‘Oh, hurry, hurry,’ she urged, quickly lowering back the seat. There was a clumsy awkwardness to the way he manoeuvred himself over the gear shift and across to her, but it only frustrated her to the point of anger. She almost cried out at not having him already as she wriggled free of her underwear.

He managed to get himself into position and pushed quickly inside her.

They both stopped for a moment and she couldn’t help but release a laugh of joy.

‘Again,’ he said.

She nodded. ‘You knew.’

‘Yes.’ He started to move and she felt every inch of him pulling through her so beautifully she clung to his back. He fitted her so well. Even here, constricted, cramped, squeezed together on the front seat of a car like desperate teenagers, he fitted her. He pushed up again and stretched her and she clenched on him to reinforce it, making him hiss in pleasure. She did it again as she loved the sound of him so much.

‘Fuck!’ he swallowed back, his eyes closing. ‘You are so fucking good on me.’ She wondered briefly if he spoke like that with his wife. She doubted it. She wanted to hear him say it again.

‘Harder,’ she said, drawing her legs up around him to pull him deeper in.

With a grunt of intent, he drove into her so forcefully her back buckled and her fingers clenched on him.

‘Harder.’ It would never be enough.

He brought up a hand to grip her shoulder and his thumb slid down to rest on her throat. He powered into her, his face harshly beautiful. ‘Like that?’

‘Uh huh,’ she managed, nodding quickly. He drew himself out and then, tightening his grip on her, thrust brutally in again, but she met him, she took him.

‘Enough?’ he said, doing it again. ‘Enough?’ he repeated, cramming into her. ‘ _Enough?_ ’ he breathed hot against her, sealing her with himself. She gave her open mouth to his kiss and he sought out her tongue with its heated, damp secrets.

‘Come into me,’ she said, almost begging. She wanted to feel it, she wanted to see him lose himself in her. He frowned briefly but she tightened upon him and it melted with his sigh of pleasure. She wanted to hold him to her and read him when he released. She wanted him plugged into her, full and deep.

John went at her with ragged breaths, barely containing himself, burying his head in her neck with his hand still curled around her throat. If she should feel intimidated she only fed off it, letting him tighten his hold on her, loving the catch of his teeth against her skin.

And then, when he could no longer hold back, he lifted his head and stared into her.

‘John … come into me,’ she gasped again, and, with the merest twist of his face, he did, stilling, stopping, coming so hard his eyes widened and he dragged in air.

When it had left him, he began moving again with grunting determination. ‘You … you,’ he rasped, and as he thrust the still hard length of his cock up inside her, as he angled himself to catch her clit, as his fingers tightened the sweetest amount on her so that she whined, she let herself come.

 _Fuck, she came_. It took her suddenly and flashed through with blinding fury. ‘Oh God, oh God, yes!’ she cried, focused on him, body, cock, heat and hold.

He slackened at last and lay his full weight along her. She loved that crush after sex as a man lies on you, silent and heavy. She loved the crush of him.

At length he lifted his head. She smiled at him, she couldn’t help it. It was too good, it was all too good. And this time he returned it and together they started to laugh, too amazed, too aware of their compatibility.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because I mean it.’

‘Don’t thank me. I don’t want gratitude.’

He slipped from her and found his way back to the driver’s side. Juliana bent down to retrieve her underwear.

‘Don’t put them back on.’

She turned to him, surprised. He said nothing, neither did he smile, but he held her eyes. Deliberately, brazenly, she curled her panties up into a ball and placed them in her pocket. Then, with a look more of satisfaction than a smile, he turned the key and started the car on the road again.

Silence returned, different again. Now it was heady, now it was lustrous. Occasionally, he’d glance her way, she’d return it, giving him the full force of her sexuality, which she suddenly found intoxicating and enticing. It had never been this way with Frank or past lovers. Joe Blake had brought out a curiosity but little more.

This was different, and this was powerful.

‘You danced well last night,’ she teased.

He sniffed out a laugh. ‘It was different.’

‘Presumably there’s a lot of dancing at Reich functions?’

‘To an extent. I can’t say I enjoy them very much.’

‘A necessary part of the job?’

‘As is most of it.’

‘You don’t enjoy your job, Obergruppenführer?’ she asked, deliberately not turning to him but letting her mouth curl up at the corner.

‘I thought you said you weren’t going to pry, Miss Crain.’

She glanced at him and her smirk deepened.

He took a breath and stared ahead. ‘I need to mention … we didn’t use any contraception.’

She lowered her head but said nothing.

‘Your medical examination revealed a broken pelvis,’ he continued. ‘I asked you then if you’d tried to conceive children.’

‘I haven’t tried.’

He turned her way, expecting more.

She shrugged slightly. ‘What do you want me to say?’

‘I want you to tell me the truth.’

And despite what he could do to her, despite who he was, she did. ‘I was told it was never going to be possible.’

She was infertile. Under Nazi law, that alone could result in her extermination.

‘You can assure me of that?’ he asked, and she detected an undertone of relief in his voice.

She laughed ruefully and closed her eyes. ‘Shouldn’t you be reporting me to the authorities? Infertile. Flawed. Unable to perpetuate the supreme race.’

‘You mustn’t become pregnant,’ he said coldly.

She bristled. He glanced at her quickly and added, ‘It would make your life very difficult.’

This time she sensed genuine concern on his part. ‘I can’t get pregnant,’ she said softly.

He turned his attention back to the road. A heavy silence fell between them for a time and then he said, ‘I’m sorry.’

Immediately tears pricked her eyes and she looked at him; the genuine sympathy in his tone stole her breath away. ‘You are, aren’t you?’

He didn’t reply for a time, and then, inhaling deeply through his nose, he said, ‘My children are my greatest joy. They are the reason I carry on, they are the reason I do what I do.’

‘I know. I wouldn’t be here now otherwise.’

The road was long and straight, empty ahead and behind. He slowed and stopped right there on the highway. Immediately, John leaned over, took her head in his hands and kissed her.

Again, she wanted, again she held him and took.

But soon, breathlessly, they broke away. He laughed against her lips. ‘We should try to stop doing this while driving.’

She laughed too but kissed him again.

‘Yes … we should try,’ she murmured and felt his hand seek under her dress. She bared her neck and he kissed down it while his fingers found her. She parted her legs and sought out his touch.

‘John,’ she sighed, letting him breathe over her skin, kissing, nuzzling, nipping.

He found her clit fast but with assiduous attention and rubbed around it, stroked over it, never too hard, never too gently. ‘Oh, God, that is so right,’ she moaned.

There was a sudden deafening noise of a horn. They pulled apart in shock and looked behind them. A truck had pulled right up against their bumper and was blasting them with the horn.

‘Shit!’ he spat and started up again, pressing his foot to the gas and speeding away from the truck with insane haste.

Juliana threw her head back and laughed.  ‘Well, at least we broke up his journey.’

John smirked, glancing in the rear view mirror. ‘There’s nowhere to stop here.’

‘Don’t stop, just get away We don’t want to make him more suspicious.’

She pressed her legs together, her lust seeping from her. She brought up a hand to rub over her neck where he’d just been nuzzled against her. He glanced over. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah … just …’ She smiled softly. ‘You’re very good.’

He looked at her, his eyes dark with arousal. Her breath came so fast it pained her.

‘Finish it yourself.’

She stared in surprise. ‘What, now?’

‘Yes.’

And for a moment he was not John Smith who had danced with her last night and shared breakfasts with her, he was the Obergruppenführer who could instil fear and submission with a few words. But she was not fearful; she was enthralled.

Juliana took hold of her skirt and tugged, revealing her legs inch by inch. She turned herself a little, inclining her body towards him. As she lifted the skirt fully she parted her legs and revealed herself brazenly. He glanced over but said nothing before turning his focus back to the road.

He was driving fast. She noticed the speedometer: 73.

Juliana brought her hand between her legs and ran a single finger up. She gasped when she reached the kernel of flesh at the top – he had already brought her so close, she would have to steady things.

She reached under and dipped the finger up inside her, noticing him glance her way as she did.

Then she dragged the underside of the finger up, drawing it over her clit slowly and making her gasp.

She stared at his profile and began circling the bud, slowly, prickling, brewing, building that ball of tension with exquisite slowness. He turned her way every so often, sometimes meeting her eyes, sometimes focusing between her legs.

She rubbed harder now, circling, rhythmic, squeezing that ball of tension to a point at which it would break.  When he turned to her and gave her the faintest half smile, it did. She came harshly, shuddering on her own fingers. She moaned it out, her eyes wide, and he watched her before calmly turning back.

The journey continued and Juliana sat back in sated relaxation. The most contented silence.

\--xoOox--

They arrived in a small town in western South Dakota and found a motel. It was a familiar ritual now. Fortunately, once again, the woman on the desk showed no recognition. They gave the same names. Only then did the woman glance up, darting her eyes between the two of them.

‘Two rooms?’ she asked with a pointed smirk.

Juliana hesitated.

‘Just one,’ stated John.

The woman looked at Juliana and handed her the keys. ’24. Have a good evening.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied. She found herself close to John as they exited, and, barely thinking, slipped her arm through his. He tightened her hold on him and they quickly took their things into the room.

As soon as the door was shut, he pushed her against it. She scrabbled to undo his buckle.

Supper could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Methinks they might need to focus on why they're on this journey at some point soon. If they can. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the interest in this story. There's plenty more plot to come, but at the moment, let's just let them enjoy things. Your comments feed the muse, thank you. x


	10. Chapter 10

John Smith had never felt need like it. Arousal seemed too flippant, desire inadequate. He _needed_ her. His body certainly did, but this went beyond that. There was an imperative to it; at this moment, it was essential to his functioning. Had it ever been like this before, the physical act of joining? Perhaps it had and he had forgotten. He didn’t want to think about it as the betrayal (there was no other word for it) was too painful if he did.

And she took. She craved, she demanded it from him. As he rammed himself hard up inside her, pinning her front-first against the door, not allowing her escape, he questioned himself momentarily. But when her breath fell from her with a sigh of indulgent approval, when she moaned her satisfaction out, when her eyelids fluttered closed and her pussy clamped so tight on him he had to force back his pleasure, he banished it. Juliana dragged her arms up and splayed her palms against the door. He threaded his fingers through hers and held her there.

John dragged himself reluctantly from her only to drive back up with a grunt of intent, impaling himself in her.

She gasped with the force of it but took him all, pushing down for more.

_Need_.

Here, now, he would not question it. Being inside this woman was the closest he had come to resolution. The different threads of his life had never quite tied up, never matched … until this. When he fucked her there was a certainty he hadn’t realised he’d been lacking.

He ploughed into her time and again with rasping grunts which she met with her own. ‘Harder,’ she implored. ‘Harder.’

He gave it to her, pounding, pushing through her tight wetness while he buried his head against her neck. Releasing his hold on her right hand, he brushed her hair aside; it frustrated him. When that smooth, warm skin was revealed, he planted his mouth against it, making her sob out a gasp. He sucked hard, all the while ramming his rigid cock through her pliant body. One hand still pinned hers to the wall, the other reached around and found her clit, plump and hungry. He knew it already, how it craved his touch, how it needed coaxing, how it hardened just before she came. He bit down on the join of her shoulder, gently at first, but when she moaned in assent, when she bared her neck for him, he let instinct triumph and sank his teeth in. It would hurt, he knew that, but he only received a moan of reckless acquiescence in return.

_Fuck, he would come_. He concentrated on her clit, he ploughed high into her, and her pussy held him so tight he had no option but to sink his teeth in hard. With a cry – spiked with pained rapture – her climax took her. He felt it; he felt the spasm of her pussy on his cock, so tight was their fit. At that, with a heaving groan muffled against her skin, his own come burst from him. In spurt after spurt he gave to her, filled her, still digging his teeth into her skin.

They remained there, pressed against the door as they recovered. She released a guttural laugh which told of wonder, of near disbelief. He withdrew reluctantly and planted the softest, gentlest kiss on the marked flesh where he had bitten down. John saw it and frowned. It hadn’t broken the skin but had left deep indents which reddened her pale flesh.

‘I’ve hurt you,’ he panted.

‘Have you?’ she asked, eyes still closed, mouth still gasping.

‘Here,’ he brought up a hand and touched her shoulder gently. Only then did she hiss in pain.

‘Ow!’ She turned around, her beautiful face now creased in discomfort, and raised her own hand to the mark. ‘That’s interesting.’

‘Interesting?’

She laughed a little, rubbing her skin. ‘Do you have Transylvanian ancestors or something?’

‘What?’

‘Dracula. A vampire from Transylvania. My grandmother told me the story when I was a kid. Count Dracula sucks the blood of women to keep himself immortal. It was a famous book once, before ...’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘You’re not supposed to read books like that, Miss Crain.’

‘I’m not supposed to do a lot of the things I do.’

‘As I’ve discovered.’

She curled her arms around him and looked up with such erotic potency his balls ached for more already.

Juliana bit her lip and turned her dark eyes to his. ‘Shouldn’t you be doing something about it, Obergruppenführer?’

He should be doing something about it. He _should._ God, if he fell any further he’d drown, but, here and now, she was all he had to cling onto and so he bent his head and kissed her, slowly, tenderly, enjoying the contrast with earlier.

She smiled against his lips. ‘I’m hungry.’

He was too, desperately. Food had been secondary to other matters all day and now their hunger asserted itself forcefully. Tearing themselves back into a semblance of normality, they went outside and headed across to a diner. It was busy enough with a few tables occupied and they sat anonymously in the corner and ordered quickly. She reached across for his hand and he let her take it.

‘So … tomorrow …’ he began but couldn’t find the right words to continue.

‘Thomas,’ she said, and as much as that name on her lips, someone so removed from his family until recently, should have brought resentment and anger he loved hearing it.

‘Perhaps.’

‘Don’t allow uncertainty, John. You must believe.’

‘He may not’ve been taken to the Billings facility.’

‘Perhaps not, and if that’s the case, we’ll go to the next one.’

‘More travelling.’

‘We seem to have survived so far.’

‘And, in the meantime, time slips away.’

She squeezed his hand and for the first time in an age he felt his eyes burning. He lowered his gaze, but why should he be ashamed to show his reaction to her? She understood, perhaps the only one who really did. Even Helen questioned his motives. This girl, this wild, free girl, knew him better than any it seemed. He lifted his gaze and let her notice the tears. Her own eyes were shining with her own.

‘We have to believe,’ she said with aching sincerity.

Their food arrived and the need to assuage their hunger helped dissipate the bubble of dismay.

‘We need to discuss how to approach things tomorrow,’ he said at length.

‘I’ll be honest … I’m not entirely sure why you brought me along.’

‘Because I needed someone to provide testimony for Thomas, I needed someone who is familiar with the Neutral Zone, I needed someone who won’t baulk at whatever situation they’re faced with. And … Thomas will need you too. He likes you, a lot. He trusts you.’

She blushed a little and that sweet shyness took hold which he found so beguiling. When combined with her lethal sexuality, it was intoxicating, he would admit that for now.

‘But … they’ll know you immediately. What are we going to say?’ she commented.

‘I’m not going to be clever. I’m simply going to tell them there’s been a mistake and that Thomas is not sick and is to return home.’

‘But … they’ll have run their own tests. They’ll have proof.’

‘I’ll deal with the test results.’

‘And the people who know the results?’

‘I’ll deal with them too. The matter will not have been spread far; it never is. Containment, Miss Crain, it’s the usual way.’

‘John … you can call me Juliana, you know.’

He held her eyes, crooked his mouth the merest amount, and said, ‘Later.’

It made her blush again and a ribbon of pleasure curled through him. Even now, even with the monumental task of rescuing his son so close, his groin was hot with arousal. He was fifteen again and making puppy eyes at Selina Drew in Algebra. But Selina Drew had never had this effect on him.

Neither had Helen.

Guilt shot through him at the realisation and he concentrated on his food.

‘Who am I?’

He looked up at her, confused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Tomorrow. Am I Juliana? Am I Julia? Someone else?’

‘You’re Julia Mills, you’ve come to assist me … as indeed you have.’

‘Assist you, Obergruppenführer? Is that what they call it these days?’ It was her turn to flirt and he liked it very much. But he took a deep breath in. The reality of why they had come all this way was biting. Perhaps he had forestalled thinking about it, perhaps he had been unable to. He fell quiet again. She seemed to sense his unease and joined him in the stillness.

After the meal as they walked back slowly to the motel she slipped her hand through his. He looked down curiously at it for a while, and allowed himself to imagine that they were true partners. That made the guilt easier, at least.

She went and showered when they returned and when she’d come out of the bathroom he prepared for bed also. They had barely spoken a word to each other since dinner. Sleep. It was important, after all.

After his shower he found her sitting up in bed. She had on a cotton camisole, pale, pretty. Helen wore more in bed. His gut twisted. Awkwardness crept back in. He stood in only his trunks but wondered if he should put on his pajamas. He always wore his pajamas to bed. Last night was the first time he hadn’t for … he couldn’t remember … before the children, before marriage even. He stood and felt an odd insecurity.

They had brutally explored each other’s nakedness last night, and his raging desire had crushed any inhibition since, but, now, the room, the situation, suddenly reminded him of his own domestic reality. How many times had he and Helen shared a hotel room and prepared for bed? The oddly formal atmosphere made him question himself. Was he too old in Juliana’s eyes? Fit enough? He lacked the bulky muscles of many younger men, Joe Blake, for example. He cleared his throat and turned away from her gaze to reach for his pajamas.

‘What are you doing? she asked softly.

He turned back and paused. Juliana moved to lie on her side and pushed the covers down so that the undulating curve of her waist and hips was revealed. Arousal thwarted hesitation. She smiled softly. ‘Come here.’

He crossed to the bed and climbed in beside her. Juliana drew her hand languidly over his chest and reached up to kiss him. ‘Do you want to just go to sleep? That’s fine. You have a lot on your mind.’

He looked down, not replying. John studied her intensely, trying to find fault, trying to read deceit, as he had tried so often before with this woman. But, yet again, he couldn’t. He dropped his head and kissed her with growing intensity. Dragging his searching mouth down her neck, he came across the marks he’d left earlier. He kissed over them but remembered the intensity of their coupling, how instinct had taken over, how vital and visceral he had been. His cock stirred, hardening immediately, and he returned to kissing her mouth. Reaching under her top, he cupped a breast and let his thumb catch the nipple. She gave that soft, throaty moan which spoke of her own irrepressible longing and pressed herself against him before quickly pulling off the camisole completely.

He wasted no time in dragging himself down and taking the nipple in his mouth. It hardened quickly on his tongue and he sucked on it as if he’d been denied sustenance. Gone was the anxiety, gone was the doubt. His hunger for this woman was uncontainable.

He stayed at her breasts for a time, sucking, nuzzling, plying and rolling the hardened little peaks until she mewled and keened and he knew he’d find her wet and ready. But a new hunger was controlling him and instead of humoring his engorged cock, he slipped further down, needing her very essence.

John took hold of her left leg and lifted it with rough desperation over his shoulder to ready himself at her sex. A deep inhalation of breath brought the scent of her into him, sending a throb of need to his balls, but he’d suppress it for now. _Hunger_.

He parted her outer lips and revealed that perfect little nub he always fingered so carefully; he almost felt ownership of it. It was almost too perfect a moment to spoil. He glanced up. She had propped herself up and was staring down at him, her chest rising and falling in anticipation, her eyes wide with expectation, her plump lips slightly parted to take in air.

If he thought about it, he’d remember that it had been many years since he’d done this. Helen had always found it too intimate, too stark. But he didn’t think about it.

He held her open for him, lowered his head, and licked.

Immediately, she cried out. ‘Oh, fuck, yes! Oh, fuck, do that!’

Right then, nothing else mattered, the past, the future, he lived just for the moment. He licked again, slowly, wanting to absorb the very essence of her which dripped relentlessly onto his tongue. He had done that. He had evoked it and he would give back.

He let his tongue play over her clit. She moaned appreciatively and spread her legs further for him. She liked it. He had evidently not forgotten. _Like riding a bike_. A swell of pride took him and he went at her greedily, licking, sucking, absorbing the addictive taste of her. Juliana pushed her fingers through his hair and pulled him in harder, lost to him, loving it. Inhibitions were obliterated; he fed on her.

Juliana began rocking herself along him and he read her instinctively, going easy when she pulled back and teasing with the tip of his tongue, closing his mouth fully over her clit and sucking when she dragged her fingers over his scalp to hold him to her.

‘There … oh there, yes, yes,’ she panted. He pushed two fingers deep up into her and curled them up. She whined as he laved her clit hard time and again. ‘Ooh, God almighty, fuck, yes!’ she cried and came. He gave her no respite, keeping his mouth on her while it pounded through her, her back arched, her legs clamping impulsively on his head.

She came down slowly with those soft little gasps he was growing to crave. But he couldn’t let it end. He moved over her and pushed her legs apart again, holding his cock which had been dripping ignominiously in abandon throughout. ‘Have to be inside you,’ he muttered.

She nodded and tugged him closer. He squeezed into her slowly, the first time he’d entered her without reckless haste since the night before. 

But, fuck, she was tight after her orgasm and held him in a silkily wet grip.

He pushed up into her almost insolently slowly. After their usual desperation, he would savour this. She smiled blearily. ‘I can feel all of you.’

Christ, if she spoke like that he wouldn’t last. John closed his eyes against threatening ecstasy and concentrated on moving through her, eking it out, delaying. He could be the most patient man alive, after all, but with her his body, his whole being, seemed to crave deliverance.

‘I love the way you fuck me,’ she said and he bent and kissed her, his tongue as deep in her mouth as his cock was in her pussy. He moved steadily but managed to hold back his looming rapture until she had come again, quietly this time, her ecstasy reflected in the widening of her eyes and the catch of her breath. But he felt it strong and powerful, and as he continued to move through it he came almost immediately. His orgasm tore through him viciously, exploding hot into her, making his fingers tear at the sheets and forcing a sharp cry from his tightened throat: ‘Juliana!’

He slumped on top of her and she clung to him. The minutes seeped away and the heavy satiation of their bodies sank through them. There was an unspoken awareness which was both unsettling and affirming: this was their last time. Tomorrow, all being well, he would be with Thomas and it would end and life would revert to normal. Their curious little alternate reality would be over, as it was always going to be, as it should be.

John Smith pressed himself as deep inside Juliana as he could and remained there as they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... after a cold shower ... onwards ...
> 
> Thank you for the fabulous interest in this story and the comments. We still have a long way to go and I LOVE writing this. x


	11. Chapter 11

The mood had changed as soon as she opened her eyes. He was already out of bed and in the shower. She stretched and tried to pretend everything was normal but knew it wasn’t. For the past few days she had been sleeping with the enemy, and now she was going to help him retrieve his son, and then …

Juliana turned over and hugged the blankets around her. _Then_?

John emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He quickly put a shirt on and pulled on his underpants under the towel.

‘I’d like to leave by eight,’ he said.

‘Of course. I’ll go get ready.’

They were fully versed in every part of each other’s bodies now, but she pulled on her camisole and underwear before hurrying with her head down into the bathroom.

She showered quickly and dressed hurriedly in a dark corner of the room. Neither of them spoke.

‘Do we have time for breakfast?’ she asked just before they left.

‘Not today.’

‘Okay,’ she agreed. He hadn’t looked at her all morning. As much as she needed to accept the inevitable end of this surreal relationship, it still hurt.

Picking up her bag, she turned for the door.

‘Juliana.’

She looked back.

‘It’s over now,’ he said matter-of-factly.

She curled her hair behind her ear and noticed him studying her while she did so. ‘I know.’

‘You know why. I can’t … We can’t … Never again.’

‘No. Never again.’

He took a sudden breath, more of a gasp, which seemed to take him aback. He looked around blankly. ‘Now … I’m going to go get my son.’

And, after gathering his things, he walked out as she followed behind.

\--xoOox--

They journeyed on, largely in silence, apart from the occasional awkward comment about the weather. Occasionally they would talk about Thomas and what they could expect at the facility. Juliana tried not to look at him too much. If she did she would realise how much she already missed that easy connection they’d established.

They arrived in Billings at just after four in the afternoon. The facility, as John called it, was about three miles out of town down a long road which seemed even longer. The car jolted over pot holes as it went. At length they came to a high fence, ringed with barbed wire with a tall iron gate in the middle of it. It was guarded by a uniformed Nazi soldier.

Smith rolled down the window. The soldier immediately heiled him. He returned it. ‘I’m Obergruppenführer John Smith. I’m here to inspect this facility.’

‘I see, Obergruppenführer, but … this was not scheduled, Obergruppenführer.’ The soldier tried to hide his nerves with a youthfully arrogant show of competence.

‘No. Spot checks seem to work even better, but I’ve heard you’re doing a fine job out here, Obersoldat, so I thought I’d come and see for myself the good work you’re doing for our Reich.’

The soldier heiled again instinctively, propelled by pride. He stood for a time, unsure how to proceed.

‘Are you going to open the gate for me?’

‘Yes, Obergruppenführer!’ He heiled again. Juliana allowed herself a smile at the almost comical repetition of it, before he at last trotted off to pull open the gate.

With a half-smile for the keen soldier, the Obergruppenführer drove in smoothly through the open gate.

As they approached closer, Juliana saw the chimney first. High, straight. It reminded her of the chimney at a local brewery near where she’d grown up. But this was not a brewery chimney.

The next thing she saw was a set of low buildings, brick, no windows, few distinguishing features. What struck her, however, was the sheer size of it. It covered as much ground as a large school.

There was a door near the front but she could see no others. John pulled up about twenty yards away and turned off the engine. He stared ahead at the building, his eyes narrowed.

‘I’d like you to go in first,’ he said.

‘Me?’ She was surprised. She wasn’t even sure he’d want her to go in at all.

‘Yes. We’ll make this as straightforward as we can. I’d rather not get involved unless I have to.’

The enormity of the task dismayed her. ‘What am I supposed to say?’

‘Ask if Thomas Smith is here.’

‘And then?’

He reached into his bag and pulled out an envelope which he handed over. ‘Give them this. Tell them it contains orders for the boy’s release.’

‘From whom?’

‘From me.’

‘And I give the name Julia Mills?’

‘Yes, and you say you’re working for Obergruppenführer Smith.’

‘And if he’s not there?’

‘We’ll deal with that if and when we need to.’

With a sigh to gather her strength, Juliana got out and shut the door behind her, leaving the strength of him behind in the car. She walked across to the building, her legs heavy, but she walked with purpose. Thomas would be here. He _must_ be here. If she told herself that enough times, surely it would be true. On reaching the door, she took hold of the handle without hesitation and opened it as confidently as she could.

There was little inside the building to distinguish it. It was hospital-like, institutional, a few chairs lined the walls, an empty table sat before them. There was a picture of Hitler on the wall, a map of Germany, a painting of the Lorelei on the Rhine. A young man stood behind a rectangular reception desk behind which were filing cabinets and shelves stacked with paperwork. He was dressed in a white lab coat and was writing on a docket of some kind. In the wall behind him was a heavy door with a single narrow glass pane in it. There was complete silence save for a high pitched buzzing whose origin she couldn’t identify.

The man looked at her, his face blank and cold but quickly masking the surprise which had briefly flitted across it. ‘Can I help you? We were not expecting visitors today.’

She dampened her lips and said clearly, ‘My name is Julia Mills. I’ve come from the office of Obergruppenführer John Smith in New York. Do you have a person by the name of Thomas Smith here?’

The man’s eyes narrowed but he gave nothing away. She searched his countenance for a response but could read nothing.

‘You’ve been sent by Obergruppenführer Smith?’ he asked.

‘That’s right.’

Still he said nothing more. She held out the envelope. ‘You are to fulfil the orders contained in here.’

The man took the envelope slowly and pulled it open, his eyes flicking up to her occasionally. He took out the papers inside and read carefully, taking his time to absorb it all.

At length, he looked up and said, ‘Wait here,’ before disappearing into another door to the left.

Juliana breathed out, trying to release the tension which was making her dizzy. She leant over to try to read any information, but it seemed to be all coded, indecipherable figures and meant nothing to her.

The young man returned a short while later with another man, late 40s, balding, with thin wire rimmed glasses. He too wore a white lab coat.

‘Miss Julia Mills?’ he said with an accent Juliana assumed to be German.

‘Yes?’

‘You’ve been sent by Obergruppenführer Smith?’

‘That’s right.’

He looked at her for a moment but said nothing. Then: ‘We have no Thomas Smith here.’

Her heart stuttered but she kept her composure. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you mean …? Did you ever have a Thomas Smith here? In the last few days?’

He paused again and then said, ‘No.’

She waited, looking at the other man who stared at her intently before turning his gaze back to his superior.

The older man moved out from behind the desk and came to stand only a foot or so before her. His face was impenetrable. The nose piece of his glasses was digging in so tightly there were red marks.

‘You are to leave now, Miss Mills.’

She swallowed. What more could she do? John needed to know. ‘Very well. Can I have my papers, please?’ She held out her hand. He did not hand them over. ‘Those papers belong to Obergruppenführer Smith.’ She sounded as officious as she could.

With his breath coming fast through his nose, the man reluctantly held them out to her.

She almost snatched them back. The atmosphere was so oppressively cold that she had to force herself not to turn and run. She walked with as much dignity as she could back to the car and got in quickly.

She daren’t look at him. Instead, she closed her eyes and said rapidly, ‘They said he’s not there. They said he’s never been there.’

John said nothing at first and she could hear his breath shushing rapidly through his nose.

‘Did you show them the papers?’

‘Yes. They were reluctant to give them back.’

He sighed out tersely and his eyes darted everywhere and nowhere as his mind worked.

‘Something wasn’t right,’ she added.

He turned to her. ‘How do you mean?’

‘They were keeping something from me.’

He waited a moment and then, opening the door, declared, ‘Come with me.’

Smith got out and strode forward without hesitation. He may as well have been wearing his uniform – she was left in no doubt that he had once again assumed the mantle of SS officer. A shiver ran through her but didn’t linger. She admired his purposeful determination; it fed into her. She kept pace with him.

Smith pulled open the door and walked straight up to the desk. The same young man behind it turned with wide-eyed astonishment and, after taking a moment to compose his realisation, lifted his hand straight up in salute. ‘Heil Hitler!’

Smith returned the gesture. ‘Heil Hitler.’ It was said so laconically that Juliana almost interpreted it as cynicism. ‘My assistant, Miss Mills, came in with a query a moment ago.’

The man swallowed hard.

‘Did she not?’ he insisted.

‘Yes, Obergruppenführer.’

‘She didn’t receive a satisfactory response.’

He swallowed again. ‘I’ll … I’ll just fetch Dr Bernhoffer.’

He left through the same door he’d been through before. John did not turn to Juliana. He stood, eyes fixed straight ahead, quite calm, it seemed to her, but he had shut out all else save for what needed to be done.

The balding man from earlier entered and heiled immediately with almost obsequious precision. Smith returned it with rather less force. ‘Dr Bernhoffer?’

‘Yes, Obergruppenführer?’

He turned to Juliana and indicated the envelope. She gave it to him.

‘Miss Mills here asked about this boy, Thomas Smith. Where is he?’

‘Obergruppenführer …’

‘Where is he, Dr Bernhoffer?’

The man pursed his lips and rolled his shoulders. ‘That consignment is –’

‘Consignment? This is a child, Dr Bernhoffer. He’s fifteen.’

‘I am under strict instruction not to disclose anything about this case.’

‘From whom?’

‘From GNR headquarters.’

‘Dr Bernhoffer … I am in charge of GNR headquarters.’

The doctor still said nothing.

Smith turned to the younger man. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Joseph Gilbert, sir.’

‘Tell me, Joseph … Is Dr Bernhoffer married?’

The young man nodded.

‘Does he have children?’

He nodded again.

Bernhoffer opened his mouth but no words emerged. Smith continued. ‘I assume they’re in the local school?’

Gilbert swallowed, his eyes wide with fear, and muttered, ‘Yes.’

‘Dr Bernhoffer, let me ask you again … Have you had a person named Thomas Smith enter this facility in the last week?’

Once again he shook his head. Smith closed his eyes against it. The muscle in his jaw worked fast.

‘But … we have had someone matching the photograph that your assistant showed me.’

Juliana’s breath caught and she saw immediate tension capture John; his eyes widened, his nostrils flared. He said nothing at first but his chest rose and fell rapidly and his eyes burned into Bernhoffer’s.

‘His name?’

‘Michael Jones.’

‘Is he … is he alive?’

Bernhoffer swallowed, but then said, audibly enough, ‘Yes.’

Euphoria rushed through her so intoxicatingly that she had to force herself not to cry aloud. She wanted to grab John, hold him, clasp him to absorb the relief and joy he must be feeling, but she couldn’t. John stared straight ahead but she saw him dragging in breath to stem the rush of dizzying blood to his head.

‘Is he here? Tell me if he’s here.’

‘Yes. He’s here.’

Smith tore open the envelope desperately and pushed the photograph under the man’s nose. ‘This boy? Him. You’re sure it’s him?’

‘I’m certain.’

‘Take me to him now.’

‘I can’t do that, Obergruppenführer.’

John stopped, and for an instant, Julia thought he’d simply shoot them, but instead he turned to her quite coolly and said, ‘We passed the school on the way here, didn’t we, Miss Mills?’

A wave of nausea welled up in her and she frowned at him in despair. ‘Didn’t we, Miss Mills?’ he pressed and looked at her with such intense exactitude she shivered.

But slowly, almost without realising, she nodded. ‘Yes, we did.’ His face softened and his expression shifted into one approaching admiration.

Smith looked back at Bernhoffer. ‘Take me to him now.’

And, with a hard swallow, Bernhoffer gestured to Smith to follow him. ‘This way.’

Smith started off, but stopped and looked back at Juliana. ‘Come with me.’

She doubted it for a moment, but his eyes were bright with integrity and his voice low with conviction and so she followed them both behind the desk and through the doorway at the back.

It led into a series of criss-crossing corridors, the walls lined from floor to ceiling with white tiles off which noise echoed with cold brightness. One corridor ran past the door, the other led straight off from it and she could see others cutting across this one. At regular intervals were doors with numbers on. The thing that Juliana noticed the most was the silence. Save for the faint hiss of the air vents, there was not a single sound. There seemed to be no other people around.

Bernhoffer led them down the corridor and turned left along another. They came to door 87 and he stopped. The doctor fumbled for his keys and at last inserted the right one in the lock and turned it. He depressed the handle and pushed the door wide open.

Inside sat Thomas on a chair, reading. He looked up immediately.

‘Father?’

The exhilaration which washed through Juliana almost scorched. Instinctively, she turned to John. For a time he couldn’t move. He stared at his son as if he were some sort of vision, a figment of all his hopes and longings.

Thomas stood up slowly, still staring at his father. ‘Father?’ he repeated.

And John Smith was at his son in three paces and enclosing him so tightly in his arms Juliana wondered if he would damage him. The two of them said nothing but simply held the other. It was only after a while that Juliana realised they were both crying.

Her own eyes misted too and she wiped them rapidly, just in time to notice Bernhoffer silently begin to move down the corridor past her. Without thinking she stepped into his path and said with remarkably cool calculation, ‘Just a moment, Doctor.’ She gave him the faintest smile, but it was not a smile of reassurance, it was a smile of deceptive intent and she knew it. ‘Obergruppenführer Smith?’ she called.

John turned back and noticed her blocking Bernhoffer’s path.

‘Dr Bernhoffer seems to want to go somewhere.’

_Since when had she been so manipulative?_

‘Just a moment,’ John murmured to Thomas before stepping up to the man. ‘Dr Bernhoffer, don’t go anywhere. I’d like you to retrieve all documentation on this child and give it to me.’

‘I can’t do that.’

Smith stared at him, his hands clasped before him, his gaze flinty. He waited for a while, not flinching, not moving, not removing his stare from the man. He didn’t get what he wanted. ‘You don’t seem to have heard me. I said, I’d like you to give me all documentation you have on this child.’

‘No papers are ever to leave this facility. We keep meticulous records.’

John Smith gave the slightest smile and raised a hand to scratch momentarily at the side of his nose. ‘You do know me, don’t you?’

‘Yes, Obergruppenführer Smith.’

‘Well, that’s not exactly correct, because due to recent … events … it’s been decided that I am now Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith, and, not that I really care about rank, that does make me second only in command to …’ Here he glanced back at Juliana. ‘… to Reich’s Führer Himmler himself. And so … when I ask you to fetch me a few papers from your paltry little provincial facility here …’ He stepped closer in so that he could see the red streaks in the man’s eyes. ‘… you’ll do it.’

Bernhoffer swallowed. A vein in his temple throbbed. ‘Yes, Obergruppenführer.’

Smith cocked a single eyebrow and did not remove his sharpened stare from the quaking doctor.

‘Y … yes, Oberst-Gruppenführer,’ Bernhoffer corrected.

‘That’s better. Now, let’s go get those papers.’

Smith glanced back at his son. ‘Thomas … go with Miss Mills.’ He stepped up to Juliana and bent to whisper in her ear, his voice low and rich, ‘Take him to the car but then come back here. Lock the car doors.’

She nodded and went up to Thomas. He gave her that soft, sweet smile he’d done so often when he’d been helping with the Reich’s exam. Instinctively, tears brimmed in her eyes. ‘Thomas …’ she murmured. Impulsively and suddenly, he threw his arms around her and wept. She clung to him and it was some time before they were able to walk out to the car. Neither said a word.

Once he was in, she leaned forward and said, ‘I have to go back for a moment. You’ll be alright, won’t you?’

He nodded.

‘I won’t be long.’

‘No … don’t be.’

She smiled softly. ‘We’ll be quick.’

‘Julia!’ He called her back. ‘Thank you.’

She smiled again and, remembering to lock the car, rushed back into the facility.

Smith was standing, legs braced, while Bernhoffer and the younger man opened drawer after drawer and removed various papers.

‘There seems to be a lot of documentation on this, Doctor,’ said the Obergruppenführer.

‘It was a … a special case.’

Smith looked over some of the papers. ‘You’ve tested him several times.’

‘Three times.’

‘Is that normal?’

The man shook his head.

‘Why so much?’

‘We were instructed to.’

‘By whom?’

‘I cannot tell you that.’

‘But you will.’

‘I understood the orders to come from the top.’

Juliana darted her eyes to John and saw the briefest flare in his before the mask of calm control descended again.

‘The top? What do you mean?’ He took a further step into Bernhoffer and fixed him with a stare of such ominous intent, Juliana herself recoiled from it. ‘I _am_ the top.’

Now it was Bernhoffer’s turn to raise himself tall. Despite the fact that Smith could kill him at any moment he let a slight smirk dart over his face. ‘Not _quite_.’

Smith’s hands clenched into fists but he maintained an otherwise cool exterior. ‘You knew exactly who this boy was? You knew this was my son?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you were still going to terminate him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you not question it?’

‘My job is to follow orders, Oberst-Gruppenführer. The boy is defective, beyond hope. We proved that in every test. He is useless. He will make no contribution to society. You know the way it works, as does he, clearly – the boy gave himself up.’

Juliana could see the tension across John’s broad shoulders, but he gave nothing else away. ‘You have new orders to release him and give me the papers. Have you found them all?’

‘Yes, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’ There was a cynically oily edge to Berhnoffer’s voice which sickened Juliana.

Smith glanced at the younger assistant. ‘Has he?’

Gilbert nodded.

‘Give them to me.’

Bernhoffer hesitated. Smith smirked. ‘We’re heading out past that school again.’

The doctor sneered and spat out, ‘ _Fahr zur Hölle, du Dreckskerl!_ ’

Smith merely extended his hand. Slowly, with a twisted face of disgust, the doctor handed over the papers.

‘Thank you. Are you sure this is all of them?’

‘Yes.’

‘There is to be no trace that this boy was ever here. If I find that you have failed in this, you know what will happen.’

‘You have all the documents,’ repeated Bernhoffer.

‘What other staff do you have here right now?’

‘This is not an operational day, so it is only the two of us.’

‘Not an operational day? How much longer were you going to wait to eliminate my son?’

‘Consignment 87 was due to be purged tomorrow along with all other consignments.’

‘How many is that?’

‘103 currently.’

Nausea once again churned through Juliana’s gut. There were over a hundred more people like Thomas, innocent, hopeless, helpless, behind those doors they had passed.

Smith extended his arm and held the documents out to Juliana. ‘Take these, Miss Mills.’

Bernhoffer glared at Smith. ‘This will not be the end of it. I have orders from the highest authority.’

‘I _am_ the fucking highest authority.’

Bernhoffer sneered again. ‘No … you are not.’

Smith stood and glanced around him, rubbing a hand over his chin. ‘Ah, but you see, Dr Bernhoffer … no one will ever know I was here.’

The sneer on Bernhoffer’s face flickered and faded. And at that, as swift as a panther, Smith moved behind him, pinned him back against him with his left arm and, with his right, gripped him under the chin and twisted his head around with sudden force. Juliana heard a sound like a branch being broken from a tree. It was the snapping of Bernhoffer’s neck. Smith released his hold on him and Bernhoffer fell dead to the ground.

He lifted his gaze coolly and fixed it on Gilbert who stood paralysed with terror.

‘Has he really given me all the documents relating to this case?’

‘Y … yes, sir.’

‘You’re certain of that?’

He nodded sharply.

‘Good. Thank you for your assistance.’ And Smith took out his revolver and shot him in the head.

After checking both men were indeed dead, he stepped over their bodies and came round to Juliana. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Did you have to do that?’

‘You know the answer to that.’

She crossed her arms against it and squeezed her eyes shut to try to block out the sound of Bernhoffer’s neck breaking. ‘Don’t let the little chinks develop, Miss Crain, you know that. Don’t allow for them. Come along.’

‘Surely they’ve got cameras here.’

‘No, I’ve checked. There’ll be a paper trail a mile long – hopefully all of which I now have here, but this is too dangerous a facility for them to record it on film. We all know the perils of too much film floating around, don’t we, Miss Crain?’

Without a look back, he walked to the car and got in the driver’s seat next to where Thomas was sitting. Juliana sat in the back.

‘Father … I thought I was doing what was right. I thought I was doing what you’d want. Why are you here?’

For a time John sat staring forward, then, slowly, he turned and looked at his son.

‘Thomas … I’ve come to take you home.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. 
> 
> But it's not over yet. 
> 
> Love the love for this fic. Please let me know your thoughts in a comment. xx


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in updating. But here it is.

John fixed his eyes on his son. For a time he just stared. He had him and he would never let him go again. Thomas turned to his father, bewildered, awkward, as if he had grown far more than merely the week they’d been parted.

‘Where’s Mother?’ asked Thomas.

‘Back home.’

‘Is she alright?’

‘She will be.’

Thomas’ brows creased. ‘Has she been sick?’

‘She’s not been happy.’

‘Father … I don’t want to disappoint you.’ Thomas was pale, his shoulders rounded, his head down.

John turned away at this and a dull weight settled in his stomach. Is that what his son thought? Is that what he was fearful of? ‘Thomas … you couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.’

The boy couldn’t look up. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘You don’t have to do anything. We’ll do everything.’

At this Thomas looked behind him to Juliana. ‘Julia …’ John glanced in the rear view mirror. She was smiling gently at his son. ‘Why are you here?’

For a moment she stuttered and looked to John in the mirror.

‘I asked Miss Mills to come along,’ he intervened quickly. ‘She knows this area better than me and I needed someone who I knew you’d trust.’

‘I’m here because I wanted to come, Thomas.’ Juliana’s words were honest and bold. Thomas instinctively reached out for her and she leaned through the seats and hugged him tight.

‘I’m glad you’re here,’ his son murmured against her coat. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

‘Thomas … you need to go home,’ she replied, smoothing down his hair as a mother would a small child.

John started the engine and turned the car down the drive.

‘There was that guard at the gate,’ Juliana pointed out.

‘Hm.’ He glanced at her in the mirror again.

‘I’ll speak to him,’ she said, holding his eyes. With that, he saw her reach into her bag and extract her gun, tucking it into her pocket before Thomas noticed.

‘Thank you, Miss Mills,’ added John. ‘That’ll help.’

They pulled up to the gate. The guard heiled again but his eyes grew wide when he saw the boy in the passenger seat.

John gave a brief smile. ‘Thank you, Obersoldat, we’re leaving now.’

‘Yes, Obergruppenführer, but …’ The guard was prevaricating, unsure.

‘Could you open the gate?’

‘Is this …?’

‘I was here to deal with a matter, which I’ve done satisfactorily. Now open the gate. You’ve done well, I commend you.’

The young man swallowed and started fingering his rifle. ‘Sir, I …’

‘Open the gate, Obersoldat.’

The soldier didn’t move. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and he stared straight ahead.

‘Open the gate,’ Smith repeated, his voice now brittle with cold intent. ‘That is a direct order from me, Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith. If the Führer finds you have disobeyed a direct command from his deputy, he will not be pleased.’

‘The Führer?’

‘Reich’s Führer Himmler. He is the only man I now answer to.’

‘But …’

‘Open the gate.’

Finally and suddenly, the man spun around and pulled open the heavy steel structure for them. John immediately drove through but stopped about 15 yards away.

‘Miss Mills … go and thank the soldier for his compliance.’ He focused immediately on his son. ‘Thomas, how are you feeling? We don’t have much food but we can stop and get something once we’re on our way. Do you need a drink? I have some water and there may even be some root beer.’

With Thomas distracted, Juliana got quickly out of the car. John watched her in the mirror as she ran swiftly back to the soldier, who’d just gone into his hut.

‘Water would be good, thanks,’ said Thomas.

He handed his son the bottle. Thomas drank from it thirstily. John’s breathing tightened. She’d have to be quick. There would be a telephone in the hut; the man mustn’t use it.

There was a sudden sharp noise which he recognised immediately as a gunshot.

‘What was that?’ asked Thomas, his eyes wide.

John’s heart pounded but almost immediately Juliana appeared again and ran back to the car, tucking the gun into her pocket.

‘What was that, father? It sounded like a shot.’

‘An engine backfiring, I think.’

‘Round here? But there’s no one about.’

Juliana got in, closed the door and immediately he sped off down the road.

‘Thank you, Miss Mills. I trust that was all in order?’

‘Yes. All in order.’ Her voice quivered.

Thomas asked no more about it, in fact, he had little to say at all.

John looked into the mirror and Juliana met his eyes. Hers were red with threatening tears but she quickly blinked them away and turned to look from the window, setting her face straight. The corner of his mouth rose up in satisfaction and that warm sensation sank into his belly and lower.

His son was alive and back with him, and Juliana Crain and he had dealt with the matter efficiently and smoothly. John Smith allowed himself another glance in the mirror. Juliana was staring out of the window and in the late afternoon light the sun shone on her face and made it almost glow. He shifted in his seat and tried to focus on the road.

They worked well together, he admitted. He was, at this moment, extremely happy.

‘We won’t return the way we came. I’ll first head south along the border with the Neutral Zone.’ He said it for her.

‘That’ll take a while,’ she commented.

‘It’s okay. Gives you a chance to see some of the country, hey, Thomas? We’ve never made it this far west before. The mountains are fabulous, don’t you think?’

Thomas turned and smiled but had nothing to say. With the euphoria of recovering him, John hadn’t stopped to think of the enormity of what his son had been through. He reached over and held his shoulder for a moment. Thomas smiled again then dropped his head.

‘You must phone Helen, John.’

He glanced at Juliana in the mirror. It surprised him and made him a little uneasy to hear her speak his wife’s name. She blushed when their eyes met and dropped her gaze.

‘Of course. I’ll stop at the next town. You do it, Thomas. You speak to her first.’

‘You said she hadn’t been well,’ said his son.

‘You need to speak to her,’ he reiterated.

There was a moment of silence which sat uneasily between the three of them. Hesitantly, but necessarily, Thomas broke it. ‘Father … do you understand why I did it?’

‘You don’t need to talk about it now.’

‘I didn’t want to bring shame on the family. I didn’t want to ruin what you’d worked for. That’s not what we believe in.’

‘I said you don’t need to talk about it, Thomas.’ Anger was rising in John already and he left his son in no doubt that the conversation should be shut down.

‘Were you in that room the whole time, Thomas?’ asked Juliana. He glared at her briefly for daring to continue it, but she was so calm, so assuring that, like his son, it lulled him into acceptance.

‘Yes. I wasn’t hurt. They looked after me well. Even the food was quite good. You would never have known that …’ He broke off.

‘Did you ever see anyone else?’

‘No, but … sometimes I heard them.’

They spoke no more about it and John drove on quickly, wanting to put as much distance as possible between them and the facility. So much had happened, so much had been threatened and avoided that now that some sort of normality was regained, they were barely able to accept it. John felt as if at any time the reality could fracture and he would find himself in another place, his wife enraged, his son dead … and Juliana … where would she be?

They drove on for an hour before stopping. While Juliana went to buy food, he took Thomas to a phone booth.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ his son mumbled.

‘Just say hello.’ John hesitated momentarily before starting to dial the number himself. ‘I’ll speak first but I won’t tell her. I want her to hear your voice.’

John was worried that she may be drunk or worse. The least he could do was check first, although the thought of speaking to his wife filled him with a strange sense of dread.

The phone rang. His mouth grew dry. _Guilt_. Despite the euphoria of what was about to be revealed, he felt it acutely. He had called her a couple of times early into the trip at the same times he’d called into the office, but not since Juliana and he had … Would his betrayal be obvious in his tone? Would she hear it? Surely she would. He swallowed hard to relieve the burning heat of shame.

Her sister answered.

‘Jane? It’s John. Is Helen there?’

‘I’ll get her, John. How are you? It’s been a long trip.’

‘Yes, I apologise for that. I need to speak to Helen.’

‘Well, wait a moment.’ He detected the frosty edge to his sister-in-law’s voice but ignored it. He could hear her calling Helen down the line. There was mumbling as her hand was held over the receiver, muffled words he couldn’t detect. And then –

‘John.’

His wife’s voice. She sounded sober, that at least was something. She did not sound relaxed.

‘Helen, how are you?’

‘ _Where_ are you?’

‘Helen … I’m handing the phone over.’ He passed the phone to Thomas who took it nervously.

‘Mother … Mother, it’s me.’

John strained to hear the response down the line. For a moment there didn’t seem to be one. He searched his son’s face.

But then he heard it. Faintly but there, through the ear piece, there was a release: a long, protracted wail of confused, wondrous rapture. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and started sobbing. John reached over and clung to him.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Thomas repeated himself over and over.

Why was his son sorry? None of this was him, this was never him. John’s guilt reinforced itself so staggeringly – guilt over his entire existence, it seemed – that he turned away just in time to staunch the threatening nausea which was barely contained. But then another thought entered his mind: Thomas mustn’t mention Juliana. Helen mustn’t know Juliana was with them, at least not until he could word it correctly.

Now he wanted to grab the receiver back. His concern ebbed a little as he realised that Thomas was in no fit state to say much at all, and neither was Helen. But still, with one hand on his son’s back, he gently took the receiver from him.

‘Helen?’

‘Is he well, really?’ She was sucking in gulps of air but he heard his wife as he remembered her, as he knew her, for the first time in an age.

‘Yes, he’s absolutely fine. We’re coming home. We’re returning by a different route so it’ll take a few days but we’ll be back as soon as we can.’

‘Don’t let him go again.’

‘No, I won’t do that.’

‘Watch him. Hold onto him.’

‘Of course I will.’

There was a silence.

‘How are you, Helen?’

‘Just get him home as soon as you can, John.’

‘How are the girls?’

‘They’re fine.’

‘I miss them.’

‘Do you?’

It hurt. Those two words, said with the bite of cynicism. He did miss them. Deeply. He blinked twice and felt tears burn suddenly and unexpectedly. He needed to go home.

‘We’ll be home as soon as we can.’

‘Stay safe, John,’ she said and put the phone down. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d ended a phone call without saying they loved each other.

He turned to Thomas and remembered to smile. ‘Alright?’

His son nodded. ‘She cried a lot. I guess she would.’

‘Yes. But now it’ll be better.’

It was growing late. They found a motel and checked into two rooms: one for Juliana, one for John and Thomas. When they went to put their things away, he glanced over at her. She only looked his way briefly before going into her room and shutting the door tight.

A short while later, the three of them went to eat in a small restaurant. It was largely empty and there was no recognition from any of the other diners. John was relieved and allowed himself to tap into the joy of recovering Thomas.

But his son remained anxious. ‘How are you going to explain everything that happened? Our neighbours saw me being taken away.’

He shrugged to dismiss it. ‘We’ll tell them there was a mistake which has now been rectified. That’s all they need to know. They’ll accept it.’

‘You said something strange in the car to that guard – about being Oberst-Gruppenführer. Is that right? Did that happen after you went to Berlin?’

‘Yes.’

‘But … does that mean you’ll be away a lot more?’

He looked up and put his fork down. ‘I’ll try not to be. But it does mean we can easily forget about this little incident.’

He felt Juliana’s eyes upon him and glanced up as he took a drink. She was looking at him intently, her arms crossed. His groin twisted in betrayal and he cleared his throat and took a mouthful of potato. In his mind’s eye he pictured her shooting the guard, no hesitation, no doubt. She knew what she had to do and she did it. He liked that a lot. The heat in his groin wouldn’t go away; she was still staring at him.

‘We’ll head south for a while and then cut across country.’

‘We’re sticking to the border with the Neutral Zone for a time?’ she asked.

‘For a few hours tomorrow. The border’s just a few miles to the west of here.’

Juliana leaned forward and prodded at her food but he noticed she ate barely any. ‘It must have been quite a shock to see your dad standing there, Thomas?’

He laughed. ‘Yes. And you. More of a shock seeing you, actually. I still don’t really get … why you’re here.’

John answered quickly. ‘To help me out, Thomas. I told you.’

There was silence again. ‘It’s really good to see you, Julia.’

His son was smiling at Juliana intently. She returned it briefly before looking down. John took a long drink.

They returned to the motel. There was a moment’s awkwardness on his part before Juliana stepped up and said quite plainly, ‘Good night then.’

‘Thank you, Julia … again. I’m sorry for what I did. I thought it was for the best.’

She came up to him and hugged him tight. ‘Don’t be sorry, don’t ever be sorry. You’re back with your father. That’s all that matters, that’s all I wanted. Good night, Thomas. Sleep well.’

She turned to John. The night before they’d barely made it into the room before he’d entered her. Now he stood, hands in pockets, awkward.

She glanced up at him and tucked her hair behind her ear. It made his breath catch. ‘Good night, John,’ she said, that was all.

‘Good night, Miss Mills.’

She turned and went into her room.

He sighed and stared out across the porch.

‘Does mother know she’s here? She didn’t mention anything,’ asked Thomas.

‘No. There was no need.’

‘I see.’

But John Smith got the distinct impression his son did not see at all.

‘Come on, Thomas. You should sleep.’

There were two beds in the room. Thomas thankfully fell asleep quite quickly. John lay fully clothed on the other bed and waited until he was sure his son was asleep before going outside quietly for a cigarette. He looked across at her door. There was a light shining behind the curtains. John paced over to a tree and planted his feet, dragging on the cigarette desperately and relishing the smoky burn capturing his lungs.

His son was alive. He was euphoric. The doubt, the uncertainty and the pain had been eliminated as soon as the door had opened and he had set eyes on him sitting there reading.

So why now was he thinking of something entirely different?

It had become too familiar to him: the cool dark evenings which muffled moral expectation and rectitude; the moonlight which caught the shadows on her face and magnified her beauty; the stillness which only enhanced their curious compatibility. He finished the cigarette and immediately lit another.

And then her door opened. At first his belly clenched in anticipation. Would she join him for a cigarette? Would she look up at him and smile? Perhaps that was all he wanted. Perhaps that was all he could expect now. He found himself wanting it desperately, her smile.

But she hadn’t seen him. She had her coat on and her suitcase in hand. And she was walking away from the motel.

She was leaving.

‘Miss Crain.’

She stopped and turned towards him. He stepped out of the shadows of the tree, cigarette still in hand, and took measured paces towards her, subduing the immediate lurch of dismay he’d felt. He must regain control. And he must not let her go, for many reasons.

Juliana let him approach until he was standing only a foot or so away from her.

‘Going somewhere?’

She didn’t at first answer but held his gaze steadily. He took a drag on his cigarette and narrowed his eyes while awaiting her response.

‘I’m leaving. I have to.’

‘I don’t see that you do.’

‘You do. I don’t belong in the Reich. My life is elsewhere. I only came back for Thomas.’

‘For Thomas?’ He almost sniffed cynically.

‘You know I did. You know that.’

He paused briefly then asked, ‘Do you really though?’

‘What?’

‘Have a life elsewhere?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t see it.’

‘Why would you?’ she queried.

‘There must be somebody.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There will be somebody for you to return to. You always return for a person, I know that much.’

She dropped her head. He was right. His insides twisted again – a curious mixture of triumph and jealousy. ‘A man?’ he asked impulsively.

‘No,’ she answered immediately.

He exhaled, surprised at the relief. Who, then? Family? Mother, perhaps.

‘And what about …?’

‘What, John?’ She was daring him to say it himself. He wouldn’t. He smirked briefly and took another pull on the cigarette, holding her eyes the whole time.

‘Us?’ She finished for him. It was satisfying to hear her say that: _us_.

But it was her turn to smirk. Juliana took a small step closer and said plainly, ‘There is no us. There never really was. You said it yourself, we’d end it when Thomas came back. That’s the right thing, we both know it, we both agreed. Don’t you dare bring that up now.’

The satisfaction turned to something uncomfortable, something which twisted and gnawed at him. He removed his gaze from hers at last.

‘I have to go,’ she repeated.

‘And I have to stop you.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re too important, Miss Crain.’

She turned away, defensive. ‘Don’t call me that, John. You owe me that at least.’

‘But that’s who you are. That’s most certainly who you are if you choose to walk away.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ll have to find you, I’ll have to bring you back. You know too much, you’re involved in too much.’

She shook her head to deny it. ‘I don’t want to be. I never asked to be.’

‘But you are and you’ve now chosen. You’re as much a part of this as me or Joe Blake. That’s how you were able to kill that man so easily today.’

She hugged her arms around her and dropped her head. He wanted to step into her. He wanted to hold her. Instead, he dragged on his cigarette so hard it made his head swim.

‘That’s not me. It’s not who I want to be, it’s not who I am,’ she insisted.

‘But, you see, Miss Crain … it is.’

She looked up at him and the ferocity in her eyes almost unnerved him. He blinked his surprise away.

‘Good bye, John,’ she said and turned away, walking rapidly from him towards a wooded area along from the motel. For a time he watched her go, almost not believing it. She had defied him; he wasn’t used to that but at the same time, from her, he found himself almost savouring it.

But she didn’t stop and she didn’t look back. She walked faster. He started after her, quickly. She glanced back and started to run. He ran too.

She was quick and he had to summon all his energy to catch her, but he did. He felt her desperation as he caught hold of her wrist. He felt her resistance and he felt the strength and heat in her as he had last night in her bed. Now she tried to pull out of his hold but only succeeded in stumbling to the ground. He fell with her and pinned her there, kneeling across her, holding her down. She writhed under his grip.

‘Let me go. Let me go, you son-of-a-bitch! I won’t mention you, I won’t incriminate you. I don’t want to ever see you again or think about you again! Never! Let me go!’

But he held her tight. She continued to struggle and he lay himself flat along her to keep her still.

‘If you go,’ he hissed down, mere inches from her face, so close he could drown in the darkness of her eyes, ‘I’ll have to hunt you down and bring you back … and then I’ll have to kill you.’

‘Then don’t look for me!’

‘You leave me no choice. And it will end in your death, Juliana, you know that.’

She struggled again but was staring hard up into him. He was hovering over her. Her breasts, as she dragged in air, rose and fell against him, as soft and pliant as they had been over the past two nights. He could feel her nipples, tight and indignant in the cool air. His cock – despite his desperation, or perhaps due to it – grew immediately hard. He cursed it, but then, as she held his eyes, he felt her, just a little … her hips lifted and she rubbed against him. He frowned in bewilderment but pushed down. She sucked in a breath.

He pressed into her again and again she met it. Her neck arched and she bit on her lip with a moan. In silence, with him still pinning her to the ground, he ground himself against her and she pushed up her hips to match him.

‘Do you want it?’ he murmured, his cock screaming for release. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her again, despite all he had promised himself, despite all he had vowed, despite his son asleep only a few yards away.

She didn’t stop. And, fuck, it was good. It was so unfeasibly good. If they kept this up much longer they would both come like this, fully clothed, lying on the forest floor. She lifted her head as if seeking out his kiss, but with supreme restraint he denied her, holding himself a mere breath away. ‘Do you want it?’ he asked again, so low he barely heard it himself.

‘Yes. I want it. You know I do,’ she replied. Her hips rose to meet his again, but then tension captured her and she stopped, letting herself sink away. ‘But not like this.’

 _No._ Not like this. He owed it to his wife and to himself. And to Juliana. _Not like this._

With a moan propelled from his very core, he rolled off and lay beside her, staring up at the moonlit canopy of trees.

She didn’t run. She didn’t get up. For a time they could pretend they had made love again and were lying together in familiar post-coital satiation.

‘Go,’ he said. ‘Go now. I won’t stop you.’

She didn’t at first. But then, in silence, Juliana Crain pushed herself to her feet, picked up her things, and disappeared into the darkness.

He didn’t stop her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to say, this is NOT the end of the story. By a long way. 
> 
> Your continuing impressions and thoughts are much loved. xx


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. Now back to Juliana - where to go? What to do?

Juliana ran. She ran until her legs ached and grew heavy. She tore her way through branches and over roots. She ran until her lungs screamed for her to stop. If she had stopped, she would have thought, and if she’d thought she would have remembered. Remembered the feel of him on top of her, remembered the look of him, the way they spoke so contentedly, the way she read him, the way he revealed his truth to her, the way they were so easy together.

When she at last stopped she could not have found her way back if she’d wanted. She slumped to the leaf strewn ground before her and let her fingers curl into the damp earth, gasping in recovering breaths and allowing her pulse to settle.

She was alone at night in a forest in Montana. The town may not have been far off but she hadn’t the first clue where it now was. There could be bears or wolves for all she knew. She reached into her bag and took out the small flashlight she’d brought. She wouldn’t be able to stop. The cold and danger would mean she would have to walk until she at least reached another town.

She took out all the tops she had and put them on, then, huddling into her coat, walked on. Fortunately, she reached a small settlement a few hours later; the only things she’d encountered were a squirrel and the blinkingly bewildered eyes of a deer. The town was silent and empty, but she slumped down in the doorway of a hardware store with a solitary acetylene light above it and hugged her coat about her.

Juliana shivered most of the night and was constantly vigilant for any intrigued passers-by, human or otherwise. Apart from a bemused racoon, who scurried off when she reached out to it, there was nobody.

At around seven o’clock the town started to come to life. She hung around as surreptitiously as she could until she saw the cafe across the road open, then went over and ordered a coffee. The owner eyed her curiously but didn’t ask questions. The warmth of the coffee seeped into her frozen limbs and eased sensation back into her.

‘This is good coffee, thanks,’ she said.

‘You got business here?’ asked the woman, her voice curious but not interrogatory.

‘No, just passing through. I’ve been trying to reach a relative in the Neutral Zone. I got a lift this far but need a bus now. Do buses pass through here heading west?’

‘From time to time.’

‘Would today be one of those times?’

‘Uh huh.’ The woman pointed up the road. ‘Bus stop opposite the bank.’

‘Thank you.’ Juliana smiled and sat with her coffee, wanting to eke it out. She had been careful with her money. In fact, despite not intending him to, she realised John had paid for most of the trip. Her pride immediately caused her to want to repay him. A little lurch caught her inside when she realised she couldn’t.

After making the coffee last as long as possible, she thanked the woman and left, acutely aware of the jangling bell above her.

She knew where she was headed. Juliana was getting used to buses. She knew to keep her head down. Don’t ask questions and don’t answer them. She boarded her first bus at nine o’clock and, through the determination and foresight which had seen her survive so far, Juliana worked her way laboriously back to the small shoreline town she had left Trudy in. It took her four days. Four days since she had run away from the Greater Nazi Reich. Four days since she had run away from John Smith.

\--xxoOoxx--

It didn’t take long to find her sister. It was a small town and she figured Trudy would find the first job going. In the third coffee shop she searched, she saw a familiar figure, back turned, spraying down the tables and wiping them clean. Juliana stepped in as the bell clanged above her. She smiled to herself as her sister polished the surfaces with her usual determination. She hadn’t turned around.

‘Take a seat,’ she called cheerily over her shoulder. ‘I’ll be right with you.’

‘Trudy.’

Her sister spun around, shock melting into delight and then cautious observation. She gave a rueful smile, arms folded before her. ‘Well, look what the cat dragged in.’

Juliana stood awkwardly, fiddling with her bag. ‘I’m sorry, I’m really so sorry. I got waylaid.’

‘You sure did.’

Juliana glanced around. ‘You’re working here?’

‘No, I just randomly wander into places and offer to wipe down tables,’ she scoffed. ‘Of course I’m working here! It’s not like you stuck around to help.’

‘I’m sorry. It was harder to keep in touch than I realised.’

Trudy looked her up and down as if she’d find the answers to all her questions written across her limbs. ‘You want a coffee?’

Juliana smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Sure, thanks. I’ll pay.’

‘Nah, sit down. This one’s on the house.’

There was nobody else there and Juliana sat at a small table in the corner. Her sister came back with two cups and set them down. She sat down opposite her with a sigh and leaned into her.

‘It’s good to see you, Jules.’

‘You too. You look well.’

‘Yeah, I am. You look kind of … grubby.’ She wrinkled her nose.

Juliana laughed. ‘I’ve been travelling.’

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, but, I’ve been on the road a long time.’

‘Did you sort out whatever your little problem was? When you went back?’

‘Yes.’

Trudy sat back and crossed her arms. ‘Really? That easy was it?’

‘It’s been sorted.’

‘And where exactly did you go back to?’

She saw no point in deceit. ‘I went to New York. I’d been in New York.’

‘Fuck me,’ breathed out her sister, her mouth gaping. ‘You’ve been in the Reich?’

‘Yes.’

‘What the hell, Juliana?’

‘I had to. It’s too hard to explain. It’s not what you think.’

‘I’m thinking you’ve turned into a fucking Nazi!’

The return to her sister’s acerbic wit nearly made her laugh aloud. ‘I haven’t. You know me too well for that, but … I had to be there for a while.’

‘And they took you?’

‘Yeah … not that … well, they kept a very careful eye on me.’

Her sister could barely conceal her amazement. She hesitated and then asked, ‘So now what?’

‘I’m here.’

‘Are you?’ She quirked a cynical eyebrow. ‘You sure you want to be here, ‘cause don’t let me keep you.’

‘Trudy …’

Trudy leaned in again, scrutinising her even more, her voice low to extract the truth. ‘What was it made you go back?’

Juliana didn’t answer. She could feel her sister’s eyes on her and stared into her coffee.

‘A guy?’ Trudy persisted.

‘No, not that.’ The heat of her cheeks was surely evident.

‘But there was a guy, wasn’t there? You were always falling for the wrong ones.’

She took exception. ‘You’re kidding me.’

‘I don’t mean the bad ones, Jules, I mean the wrong ones. The ones who were a waste of time.’ Trudy paused before adding, ‘I’m guessing it’s not Frank.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘Ah!’ she said gleefully. ‘So it _is_ someone.’

 _Shit._ She rolled her eyes. Her sister had always been good at teasing out confessions.

‘Tell me. Someone in New York? He’s not a … he’s not a fucking Nazi, is he, Juliana?’ She heard the venom in her sister’s voice and nausea washed over her. She dropped her head.

‘Trudy. He’s not anything. There’s nobody. It’s not like that.’

‘But … you’ve been working for the Nazis.’

‘Not working for them, you know I’d never do that.’ She gave a slight shrug. ‘I can’t explain. It’s complicated.’

‘Is it to do with the films?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘What the hell? If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t know about those films.’

‘I can’t. It’s too dangerous for both of us. I don’t want you involved. God, I don’t want to be involved either. That’s why I’m here, to get away from it all.’ She looked at her sister. ‘You told me before you couldn’t remember all that, with the films.’

‘Yeah … I don’t get it either. It’s come back to me over time. Snippets, little moments. And then Abendsen arrived and … I remembered. It’s been weird, so fucking weird.’ Trudy gave a small sigh and fell silent for a time. They both sipped their drinks but customers started arriving. Trudy glanced over at them and stood up. ‘Look, I get off at six. Go to my apartment and wait there.’

‘You’ve got an apartment? Already?’

‘Yeah. I work part time in the school too. And space is cheap round here. It’s not exactly the center of the universe.’

Juliana was impressed. ‘You sorted all that so quickly?’

Her sister shrugged. ‘I had to. Just asked around the same day I got here. And … he helped.’

‘The Man in the High Castle?’

She sniffed out a cynical laugh. ‘That’s what the Nazis call him. His name’s Hawthorne Abendsen.’

‘Is he still here?’

Trudy shook her head.

Juliana studied her sister carefully and smiled. ‘You look really well, Trudy, really happy.’

Her sister smiled back. ‘I think I am.’

‘Where is this apartment?’

‘17b Quay Street, just along from here towards the wharf. Can’t miss it.’ She handed over a small bunch of keys.

‘I’ll see you later.’

Juliana made her way along the road. People greeted her politely and warmly as she passed them, strangers, but there was no scrutiny, no suspicion. These were decent people who led easy, decent lives.

She soon came to her sister’s apartment. It was on the first floor of a wood-slatted little waterfront house. She made her way in and smiled to herself. Trudy had always been resourceful; it already felt like home.

They’d both been busy in a short time. Juliana crossed to the window and looked out. It was a pretty little bayside town with little else to recommend it. Trudy was clearly content though. She glanced back into the apartment. She distinguished nothing to rouse any suspicion that her sister may be involved in any activity which would once again put her in danger.

Just after six o’clock the key turned in the lock and Trudy came in with a smile.

‘All good?’ asked Juliana.

‘At work?’

‘I guess. And here.’

‘Yeah … it is.’

‘I don’t see any rolls of film.’

Trudy sniffed a laugh and shook her head. ‘I don’t see any on you either.’

‘Are you keeping out of trouble?’

Trudy crossed her arms as she did when she was annoyed with her sister. ‘Look, Jules, I don’t want you back here to spy on me and question everything I do. I just want to keep my head down. I’m not going near the Pacific States, I’m not going near the GNR. I’m just gonna stay here and work, is that okay?’

They looked at each other for a while. Juliana took a step in. ‘Where were you before he brought me to you again? Do you know where I last saw you?’

Trudy turned away a little, awkward. ‘In that alleyway when I gave you the films.’

Juliana dropped her voice to stress the seriousness. ‘No, Trudy, that’s not where I last saw you.’

Her sister turned away and shook her head. ‘I don’t want to know. There are things that I can’t explain, that I don’t want to explain.’

She had to say it. ‘But, Trudy … you were killed. I saw it. I saw you.’

Trudy squeezed her eyes shut. ‘I think I know that, but … I can’t explain it. I remember all of it, but at the same time, it’s no longer me.’

‘But what happened after?’

‘I don’t know. I just found myself back. I was back in California, but I was different, it was all different. The Japanese were … they weren’t there.’

‘Like in the films?’

Her eyes widened. ‘You’ve seen them?’

‘Some of them. They all show different things. In some we win the war, in some it’s even worse. Trudy … I think perhaps you’ve come from one of those places. The place where we won the war.’

‘But how come I can remember what happened before too?’

‘I don’t know. How can I know? It’s crazy, it’s all crazy.’ She sat down. Her sister came beside her and drew her arm around her. Juliana rested her head on her shoulder.

‘Well, you’re here now. We know that much.’

Juliana raised her head and turned to Trudy. ‘Don’t you want to go back to California? The California you left?’

‘I wasn’t there long and it didn’t seem like … me, somehow. I don’t know. I can’t explain it, but I’m happy here, I know that. I’m happy to stay here. I don’t want the danger any more. It’s gone, that need. I can’t explain anything else. It’s like … it’s like there were two of me, two of everything, all a little different.’ She looked back at her sister. ‘Did you get in deep?’

‘Yes.’

‘With the Nazis?’

‘I had no choice. Like you say … there are some things you can’t explain.’

‘But Abendsen trusts you completely.’

‘He should.’

Trudy studied Juliana carefully. ‘You’re really not working for them?’

‘Damn it, Trudy! I’ve already told you. Of course I’m not! How could I?’

‘So why did you go back?’

She wanted to tell her. She wanted to tell her about the young, innocent boy with Nazi parents who was dying, she wanted to tell her about the people she’d met, the people she’d killed. She wanted to tell her about Lucy, about Helen, about the conflict everyone encountered simply by being human. She wanted to tell her about the man with the green eyes and high cheekbones who she couldn’t stop thinking about. The man who was now one of the most powerful and dangerous people in the world. The man she couldn’t stop dreaming about, the man she couldn’t stop wanting. But she didn’t.

‘Not now. Come on. Let me cook you dinner.’

‘Just like old times?’ smiled Trudy, taking her sister’s hands.

Juliana clasped Trudy’s fingers tight before standing up and moving into the kitchen. ‘Just like old times.’

\--xxoOoxx--

Days passed. They stretched into weeks.

She spent the time walking, reading, she spent it with Trudy when she could. Those days with her sister were precious. Trudy was settled; Juliana had rarely seen her so happy. Her jobs were going well, she was away from danger, away from intrigue, and Juliana was glad to see it. Her sister was happy; she seemed not to need more for now. The town provided nothing in the way of intrigue. Life ticked along, one day blending into another, the only excitement the occasional extraordinary catch from the fishermen.

Juliana tried to find a job, but after the intensity of what she knew she was capable of, of what had been, the thought of waiting tables or filing appointment slips did not appeal.

The days may have been calm and content, but, Juliana could only admit, they were also relentlessly dull.

Her sister may be happy, but Juliana soon concluded that she herself was far from content.

After all that had happened to her recently, this was the kind of normality she had grown to shun. She was bored. She was frustrated.

She went for walks, she waited around for her sister, she chatted to the locals. None of them piqued her interest, none of them intrigued her. Men would chat to her, nice men, kind, decent men. Some even asked her for a drink. She would search their eyes for more, try to detect lines of history and experience in their faces. Always she would be disappointed. She didn’t acknowledge that she searched for him in their faces, searched for his allure, for his complexity. And when she never found it, she didn’t acknowledge that it added to the encroaching hollowness inside.

Despite all her efforts, all her desire to make a life here work, it soon became clear: she couldn’t stay.

But what? Return to San Francisco? The Japanese would scrutinise and interrogate – why had she fled to the GNR? Did she have more tapes? What did she know? She would be dead within a week.

She couldn’t stay here. Juliana stared out over the harbour, beautiful and still. The stillness itself bored her and that gnawing ache settled deeper in her stomach. She clutched onto the rail of the harbour wall and found her eyes glazing.

Where was he? He and Thomas would be back now. She pictured Helen clasping her son to her. Had she clutched her husband as tightly? Had he held onto her? The ache inside twisted in sudden, sharp jealousy.

Juliana tried to banish any thought of the Smiths but couldn’t. She wondered how the trip home had gone. She imagined John and Thomas driving, chatting, laughing, sharing meals. She’d done that, and it had been so good. She had been happy.

She closed her eyes and saw that slight smile he gave her, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the way he fixed her with his eyes so intensely it made her …

_… dreadfully handsome ..._

Juliana forced her eyes open again and stared down at the sun on the water. Wasn’t that beautiful enough? Wasn’t it enough? She had only started on this to find out about her sister. And now her sister was alive and well and happy. Couldn’t she stop now? Shouldn’t she stop?

She’d never wanted to be involved, she hadn’t asked to be involved. But neither did she want to be impassive. Days on the run, the danger and the connivance she had been part of told her that. She had become so much _more._ To be detached, not to feel, not to think, that was the worst sin.

And there was the element of security. If truth be told, she had felt safer in the GNR than anywhere else recently. She might not be able to conform to it, but she could certainly use it.

It was when she went to sleep at night that it was worst, the ache. Trying to get comfortable on Trudy’s small sofa, pulling the blanket in close, she could not dismiss it. She could forget for a few moments during the day, but not at night. It was at night that she had been happiest with him.

If she stayed here, she would question why. What was her purpose? She had had one on the trip to find Thomas. She had had one in New York.

If she went back, that would be why: to rediscover her sense of purpose, she told herself. She had lost it here, and Juliana could not stand that.

She could not go back to the west coast, she couldn’t stay here. There was only one place Juliana Crain could go. There was only one thing she could do.

\--xxoOoxx--

The next day at dinner she sat, picking at her salad. Juliana had hardly eaten any of the chicken pie her sister had made.

‘You used to like this pie before,’ Trudy remarked tetchily.

She put down her fork. ‘It’s still good. I’m just not hungry, I’m sorry.’

‘Did you look for jobs today?’

‘A little. There’s nothing. You got the last two jobs here.’

Trudy tutted. ‘Nothing that you’d lower yourself to do, you mean?’

‘Don’t be stupid. I’m not like that.’

There was silence. Trudy stared across at her. Juliana avoided her eyes. ‘Juliana … you’re okay, aren’t you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re just not yourself.’

She inhaled sharply. Why delay it?

‘Trudy … I’m not staying.’

Her sister smirked but her look of disappointment could not be fully masked. Still, she raised her eyebrows and reached for her glass, quickly resigning herself to it. ‘I figured you wouldn’t.’ She took a drink and studied her sister as she did so. ‘You’ve changed. Used to be the other way round, remember? I was the one needing adventure, you were the one who advised caution. Now look at us. This is what I need now, this is what I want. I need the predictability, the nothingness. After all I went through, I need it. And you … you need more, I get it, I’m glad of it. It’s about time.’

Juliana laughed softly and reached across for her sister’s hand. ‘It’s been so good to be with you and to see you happy and safe.’

‘For now, at least. Who knows about the future, but I’m not going anywhere for a while. So … where are you headed?’

‘You know where.’

‘Back to New York?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘I can’t go back to San Francisco. To them I defected to the Reich. I wouldn’t survive a day. And … I can’t stay here. I came back for you and …. you don’t need me, you’re okay. I came back to make sure you’re okay and you are.’

Trudy frowned, not in judgment, but with gentle concern. ‘What are you going to do there? What _can_ you do there?’

She shrugged, unsure herself. ‘The same I did before.’

‘And what was that, Juliana?’

She had to think about it, and her sister’s intense scrutiny brought a flush to her cheeks, but she answered sincerely: ‘I tried to help people. I tried to make things right.’

Trudy sniffed out. ‘Same as always. And what about you, Jules? Who’s gonna help you?’

‘I can look after myself.’

Trudy sighed and took a drink before stating with resignation, ‘Well, you’ve done okay so far, I guess.’

‘I’m going to leave tomorrow.’

‘Christ, you really do wanna go. How are you travelling?’

‘Bus, I guess.’

‘Aw, come on.’ Trudy got up and crossed to a drawer to take out some money which she held out to her sister. ‘Take the train. Those buses are like hell.’

Juliana screwed up her face and shook her head. ‘I don’t need your money.’

‘Please,’ she insisted, proffering the bills. ‘Come on, sis, you’ve helped me out so much in the past.’

Juliana smiled up at her sister and, with a grateful sigh, took the money. ‘Thank you. I owe you though.’ She looked carefully at Trudy. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

‘I’m already okay.’

‘I’ll call when I can. I’ll visit when I can.’

‘I know.’

She stood up and clasped her sister in the tightest hug. ‘I love you, Trudy.’

‘Love you too. Be safe, Juliana.’

\--xxoOoxx--

Juliana caught a bus back to the border and slipped across into the GNR states with her new found ease. Her papers seemed still to be valid. Nobody questioned, nobody scrutinised. She caught a train in Bismarck that would take her eventually to New York City.

She arrived back in New York on a bright Wednesday morning in October. The air glistened with anticipation of what could be. Juliana felt a tingle of potential that had been absent for too long.

She made her way back to her apartment, doubting she could get into it, but where else was she to go? She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Chances are she would be arrested and interrogated again. By whom? Him? Her belly flipped with a sensation she daren’t admit was excitement.

Juliana mounted the steps to her apartment slowly. The front door opened as normal, her first hurdle over. She ascended the stairs, her heart pounding. Her key was already clutched in her hand as she approached her door. She pushed it into the lock and to her amazement it slid in easily. She turned it. The door opened.

She took a cautious step inside. The newspapers she’d been reading when she left were still where she’d left them. A pair of her shoes were still tucked next to the chair. She leant back against her door and felt it click shut behind her.

She was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More as soon as possible. There is so much goodness to come, I can barely contain myself. Thank you for your continued interest in this story. In the absence of Season 3, hope this is tiding you over. ;-) xx


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE writing for these two, especially for John. This chapter's all his. Things are shifting, things are re-aligning ... Enjoy. x

In one way, the journey back with Thomas was the happiest John Smith had ever been.

He forgot the past, didn’t think of the future. For those four days, it was just his son and him, and never had they been closer. If he ever questioned why he had done what he did, he realised it was worth it for those four days alone.

But it was not perfect.

He found himself glancing in the rear view mirror thinking he’d find bright eyes smiling back at him. He didn’t.

She had gone. He had let her go.

He allowed himself to imagine what it would’ve been like to have her along, the three of them, telling stories, exploring the country, laughing over dinner. At those times he would suck in sharply as if to purge the thought and turn his attention to Thomas.

He seemed well. For a time John could forget the mutation lingering in his son’s body, forget that it would remain, that it would eventually destroy. Bringing Thomas home had not solved that, but he was too euphoric for now to think about it.

The day after she ran, Thomas had asked about Juliana. John had noted the dismay on his son’s face when he’d told him she’d had to leave. He’d lied and said she was visiting a relative who had become ill. Thomas liked Juliana a lot, perhaps a little too much. John had noticed the way he gazed at her, the way he tried to catch her attention, the way he smiled at her briefest remarks. He could hardly resent his son for this. Thomas was nearly seventeen; Juliana was a beautiful and charming young woman. Who wouldn’t fall for her?

Who indeed?

_Beautiful._

_Charming._

Determined. Perceptive. Intuitive. Alluring.

Soft. Warm. Enclosing.

When he closed his eyes he pictured her, he imagined her and felt her.

John drove the long miles back, gripping the wheel hard, constantly aware of her absence despite the joy of having his son beside him. He resented her leaving. Her absence had upset both father and son, and for that he allowed annoyance to settle deep inside him. In itself that increased his frustration.

He would ensure he forgot about Juliana Crain as soon as possible.

\--xoOox--

As they approached New York, he should have felt excited anticipation, but instead anxiety caught him at the thought of seeing Helen again. She was too good a judge of character, he thought, and he was unused to deception of this kind. How ironic. Deception was his profession, but when it came to the open reality of his marriage, he was unsure he could hide it. He was reassured by the hope that she would be focused on Thomas, that her elation would prevent her from reading his betrayal.

Helen had returned home with the girls. His sister-in-law had told him that, to the best of her knowledge, his wife had not had a drink since receiving the news that Thomas was safe.

He pulled up to the house. The anxiety had not dissipated. He looked over at Thomas, who beamed back.

‘May I, Father?’ he asked, barely able to contain himself.

John smiled gently. ‘Of course.’

His son threw open the car door and ran up the path to the house. John remained in the car as he watched the door open and Helen appear. She smothered Thomas in an embrace so hard he wondered if she would ever let him go. Amy and Jennifer bundled around him, sibling rivalry forgotten. The four of them stood on the front step, weeping and holding each other as tight as possible.

John got out of the car and walked up to them, keen to get them inside and away from prying eyes.

Helen was barely able to tear herself away but lifted her head as he came close and gave a watery, tear-stained smile. He leant down and kissed her on the forehead. It felt awkward, he couldn’t pretend otherwise. He was grateful for the embraces of his daughters to distract from it.

They managed to move into the house and close the door. John stepped back and let his wife and son hold each other.

After what seemed an age, they drew back slightly, but still Helen couldn’t take her eyes off Thomas.

‘You’re back, my baby’s back. I’m never going to let you go again. I’m never going to let you go,’ she repeated over and over.

‘I’m sorry, Mother, I’m truly sorry,’ sobbed Thomas, the same remorse he’d revealed to John.

Helen pulled back and held her son’s face, looking him straight in the eyes. ‘Don’t say that. It’s not your fault. None of it. None of it.’

That was one thing on which he and his wife would always agree – the sanctity of their children. But he sensed her veiled implication that the fault lay instead with him. He was surprised she managed not to turn and give him an accusatory look of disdain.

Helen closed her arm around her son’s back and led him into the kitchen. ‘Come on, I’ve made your favorite.’

Thomas stared down with subdued enthusiasm at the bowls of pie and potato and corn. They’d eaten frugally over the past few days – they’d had little appetite and more important things to do. He and Thomas understood each other more than ever and John resented Helen’s imposing assumption. He checked himself. She was his mother; she deserved her indulgence. And she was John’s wife; she deserved his respect.

Still, he doubted Juliana would have been so immediately assertive.

He inhaled deeply. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’

‘Now?’ Helen asked. ‘We’re going to eat.’

‘Is that okay?’ he said, trying not to sound defensive. ‘I’ll be quick. It’s been a long trip.’

The tight lines at her mouth relaxed a little as she seemed to catch how she came across. She managed a smile. ‘Of course, go ahead.’

He could have stayed in the shower for an age but limited himself to two minutes. His family were waiting and the water on his skin elicited a feeling of sensuousness which reminded him of things he should not be reminded of.

They ate happily. His daughters chatted freely and provided most of the focus. Thomas contributed occasionally but lacked the fluent discourse he’d relaxed into on their road trip. John eyed him carefully; he would need care and attention. He reached over and held his arm. His son turned and they shared a warm smile.

‘Are you returning to work tomorrow?’ asked his wife.

‘I’ll have to.’

‘Things seem to have settled down in Berlin.’

‘Good.’ He tried to limit the conversation by focusing on his food.

‘Do you know when Heusmann’s trial will be?’ Helen was persisting.

‘Not yet, but they won’t want to delay it.’

‘It’s such a shame about Joe,’ added Helen.

He took a breath. ‘I’d rather not talk about that. Not tonight.’

He felt her eyes on him again, not the warm, reassuring gaze he could always rely on before. He wiped his mouth and didn’t look up.

It was a luxury to tuck in all three of his children at bedtime. He had not done that with Thomas for a while, but he did tonight, and his son did not complain. John kissed him on the forehead. ‘Welcome home, son.’

Thomas smiled and turned over, pulling the covers in tight. John suspected he would lie awake for a long while to come. His head was too full, his mind still confused.

John returned downstairs. Helen was reading the paper. She had resisted wine during the meal, but he now saw a glass of Scotch in front of her. His stomach twisted in dismay.

‘How did you manage?’ she asked.

‘Manage what?’

‘To get him back.’

‘It was easy enough.’

‘Your usual means of persuasion, John?’

It was rare they discussed his methods, although Helen knew of them all too well and had never questioned it.

‘Some things are necessary.’

She reached for the glass and stared into it. ‘It’ll be discovered. It’ll be questioned.’

Her doubts annoyed him. ‘You think I don’t know that? But I’m in a position now where I can shut down questions quickly.’

She eyed him with penetrating conviction. ‘Are you sure of that?’

‘Would you rather I’d just left him there?’ He heard the anger rise in his voice and stopped himself, letting his shoulders drop, pushing his hands into his pockets. ‘Look … I’m tired.’

‘Don’t let me keep you up.’ She drank from her glass.

He gave a sigh and came and sat beside her on the sofa. ‘I got him back, Helen. It’s over. We can move on, go back to how things were.’

She looked at him. Gone was the iciness, but it was replaced by a sadness which made him ache. ‘He’s still got it, John. It’s not going away.’

‘But he’s alive. Be happy for that.’

She looked back to the newspaper. ‘Go to bed if you’re tired.’

‘Aren’t you glad I’m back?’ he dared, the prickle of guilt crawling under his skin again.

She sighed and managed a brief smile. ‘Of course … but things are so different. He’s different … _you’re_ different.’

His belly lurched. Could she tell?

‘How do you mean?’ Was his betrayal obvious in his voice?

‘There’s so much expectation on you now, so much responsibility. And … if you get it wrong …’

The relief that she wasn’t talking about his adultery made him almost smile. ‘Then … I won’t get it wrong.’

‘There are some things even you can’t prevent, John.’

He thought he should lean over to give her a reassuring kiss but she was sitting that little bit too far away not to make it awkward so he didn’t. Instead he pushed himself to his feet. ‘Will you be up soon?’ he asked.

‘I imagine so.’ She didn’t take her eyes from the paper.

John climbed the stairs and got ready for bed. Pajamas on, hair combed, the same routine as always. So why now did it feel so alien? He pulled back the covers and noted the smooth sheet, the neatly tucked-in quilt, the scent of tea rose. How different from the last time he’d shared a bed with a woman: sheets barely clinging to the mattress and the heady aroma of sex-sweet sweat. He dragged his hands down his face and closed his eyes. There she was, standing before him, that warm, enticing smile on her face, her breasts inviting and ready, hands on his shoulders, dark hair tickling his face, lips parted.

John tore his eyes open. ‘Fuck!’ he muttered and pulled his legs round and into the bed, not bothering to read as he usually would. He lay down, facing out, and tried to think of home and work and routine.

He did not fall asleep, but when Helen came up about an hour later, he pretended he was. She didn’t curl into him, she didn’t even touch him. She got in on her side and turned to face the other way.

\--xoOox--

The next morning was a reassuringly familiar whirl of domestic routine – breakfast, last minute homework, and snatched hugs before the girls were bundled off to school. Thomas remained at home. He would return to school, but everyone agreed that he needed a day to get his focus back.

John was due at work. As he did up the tight buttons on his uniform for the first time in days he allowed himself a moment of cynicism. What would Juliana think of him like this? Still dreadfully handsome? His uniform had never deterred admiring female glances before, he knew that, but he wasn’t sure she would feel the same. He brushed down the shoulders and pulled on the armband to straighten it. Something tugged his lip into the slightest curl, something approaching distaste.

He looked into the kitchen on his way out. ‘I may be late tonight – lots to catch up on.’

Helen was over at the far end replacing bowls into the cupboard. It was an unnecessarily long way to walk over for a goodbye kiss; she’d understand.

‘Alright. I’ll see you later,’ she replied, her back still to him.

‘Bye then.’ He hesitated. Would she turn around even?

‘Good bye, John.’ She did turn, briefly, with a faint smile but no lingering look. It was easier that way. He hurried from the house and into the car.

\--xoOox--

Oberst-Gruppenführer John Smith strode into the offices of the Greater Nazi Reich as purposefully and confidently as he always had. If he had looked to the sides, he would have noticed the lingering glances; he had been away a while. 

He arrived at his office and hung his cap up on the stand as usual. He recalled the last time he had been here – the way he’d concocted a trail of deceit to enable his trip to take place, to allow Juliana Crain to come with him. He stood tall and tugged down his jacket. 

‘Oberst-Gruppenführer, you’re back!’ Erich Raeder walked in, his face bright.

John smiled ruefully. ‘It would appear that way, Erich. How are you?’ He walked over and shook his Sturmbannführer’s hand.

‘Very well, sir, but it’s good to see you.’

‘That either means you’re a flatterer or I have a lot of mess to clear up now that I’m back.’

Erich dropped his head with a laugh. ‘Neither, I hope, sir, although it’s always reassuring to know I can consult with you. But … there are a fair amount of documents.’ He handed over a huge pile which Smith took with a wry smirk.

‘So …’ He sat down in his chair and rested his elbows on his chair. ‘What news?’

‘Berlin have been keen to speak with you. I’ll arrange a call today, if that’s alright?’

He nodded and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his belly. ‘Of course. By Berlin, you mean Reich’s Führer Himmler?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Smith swallowed. ‘Did you tell him I was away?’

‘Yes, sir. I told him you were quelling Resistance matters in the West. He seemed pleased. He’s asked for a full report.’

 _Shit,_ _the trail of_ _deceit was_ _ongoing._ ‘I see. Well, he shall have one in due course.’

‘How was your trip, sir?’

‘Good. The Resistance are a ragged lot out west. There wasn’t a huge amount to deal with but what I found I’m sure will not cause any problems again.’

‘Was it worth it, sir?’

He glanced up. Had people been questioning the necessity of the trip?

‘Of course. A lot of good work took place.’ John reached for a cigarette and lit it smoothly.

‘I dealt with the other matter, sir.’

‘What other matter?’ He waved out the match.

‘The Marcia Dujean matter, sir.’

John struggled momentarily to recall the name, a name he himself had plucked from innocent obscurity to become a scapegoat. ‘Of course. The girl in the Collins case.’

‘Yes. She … never confessed, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

‘I told you she wouldn’t. Did you proceed as instructed?’

Erich hesitated. John glanced up at him, fixing him with his stare. ‘Erich?’

Erich swallowed and took a steadying step with his left foot. ‘Yes, sir. She was eliminated, sir.’

Smith dropped his head again. ‘Good work. Some things have to be done, Erich.’

‘I know, sir, but I’ll admit this one was difficult.’

Smith sat back and pulled on his cigarette, studying his Sturmbannführer. ‘Are you alright about it, Erich?’

‘I am now, sir.’

He shook his head in mock regret. ‘She’d done a very bad thing, Erich. It resulted in the death of a good man and the kidnap and rape of his wife.’

‘I know, sir. It’s just …’

‘What?’

‘She seemed so … genuine.’

He pouted cynically. ‘They often are. She must’ve been a good operative for the Resistance.’

‘Did … Julia Mills accompany you on the trip as planned?’

Something caught him inside and he wanted to simply savour it for a time but he had to respond. ‘She did.’

‘Effectively?’

 _Effectively_? He pictured her riding him, her back arched, her eyes closed in erotic bliss as she drew out his own. He would savour that.

‘Very effectively.’

‘That’s good to hear, sir.’

‘Exceptionally, in fact. She was a real asset to the operation.’

‘But … surveillance on her apartment reveals she hasn’t returned there.’

He sucked in a breath and masked it with a cough. ‘No, she … had to visit a sick relative. She didn’t return with me.’

Erich looked confused. ‘I see.’

There was a pause. He looked up at Raeder who was standing there, a slight frown on his face.

‘Any more for now, Erich? I have a lot to be catching up on.’ He glanced at the pile of papers.

‘Is she unmonitored, sir?’

‘Miss Mills?’

‘Yes.’

‘For now.’

‘You were happy to let her go?’

As much as he liked Erich, this was aggravating. ‘I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t.’

‘Of course, sir. How long does she intend to be away?’

‘I don’t know. Her aunt is very sick. It could be a long while.’

‘Do you wish us to monitor her? I can get operatives onto it straight away.’

He clenched his jaw. ‘That won’t be necessary.’

‘Are you sure? Julia Mills was under strict observation after entering the Reich, on your orders, sir.’

He gave a terse sigh. ‘Yes, and therefore, if I instruct that she no longer needs to be monitored, then that is to be respected without question.’ Smith fixed Erich with a penetrating stare.

‘Of course, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

Smith said no more. Erich broke the silence.

‘I need to ask, sir … shall I reallocate Miss Mills’ apartment? Surveillance on those apartments is automatic and they’re a useful resource to the Reich. If she’s going to be away indefinitely, we could get rid of her belongings, change the locks and clear it for another case within a day.’

John ran his fingers over his brow. What would be the point of not doing so? She was not returning. She had made her decision.

He dragged on his cigarette a final time before stubbing it out.

‘No. Leave it as it is. Don’t touch her things.’

‘Are you sure, sir?’

He turned his gaze up again, his annoyance at his Sturmbannführer’s insistence palpable. ‘Yes. Why should I not be?’

Raeder swallowed and averted his eyes. ‘Very well, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’ He snapped to attention and extended his right arm. ‘Heil Hitler!’

Smith muttered a heil in return and turned his attention to his documents as Erich left.

\--xoOox--

Work dominated. Himmler seemed satisfied with his absence and Smith assured him of a report in the next week or so. He duly delivered, staying up late concocting a full brief on the elimination of the (non-existent) Resistance in the western states of the GNR.

The Führer had asked about Thomas, almost dropping it in as an afterthought, which unnerved Smith intensely. But he had answered smoothly, explaining it as human error, a case of mistaken identity. Himmler had seemed satisfied, although Smith suspected that if his star had not been in the ascendancy, the Führer’s scrutiny would have been more concentrated. But Smith had destroyed the paper trail, he had eliminated anyone who had proof of Thomas’ affliction. For now, he breathed easy. For now, he could continue.

However, life at home was not as it had been. He was grateful for the late nights at work. Helen had not stopped drinking, although her consumption was limited to one or two glasses of Scotch after the children were in bed, and although their relationship on the surface was as equable and content as it had always been, certainly in front of the children, he detected her resistance. They had not had sex since his return, and although he was sure it was not due to her suspicion of his adultery, more a lack of desire from either of them, the guilt gnawed at him incessantly. He contrived reasons to return late, often after she’d gone to bed.

Thomas returned to school. The knowledge that he had been taken away by the health authorities was commonplace and so, if anyone asked, the response was, ‘There was a mistake, an administrative error.’ Little else was said. When your father is the most important Nazi in the GNR, no one quibbles. Fortunately, his symptoms were for now lying dormant.

John started to tell himself that days went by when he didn’t think about Juliana Crain. That wasn’t strictly true, however. Hours passed without a memory of her, perhaps, when he was taking a call from Himmler or interrogating prisoners. But, apart from those moments when distraction was enforced rather than chosen, she lingered. A scent would remind him, the way someone curled their hair around their ear. Night was the worst, as it always had been. He would lie, back turned to his wife, and remember.

At those times, he would grow agonisingly hard and curse his reaction, curse his need and the memory of her.

He wondered where she was. He wondered if she were safe and well … if she were happy. He’d made her happy, hadn’t he? He pictured her smiling at him, heard her laugh.

He wondered …

\--xoOox--

It was a Tuesday night. The family sat at the dinner table as usual. Discussions with Thomas had been brief, no one had pried. If he wanted to talk, he would do so in his own time; both his parents respected that. But tonight they were relaxed; Thomas had done well in a math test and was more effusive than he’d been in months. The conversation turned to their journey home.  

‘How was your trip across country coming back here?’ queried Helen. ‘Did you two have a good time?’

Thomas smiled, his eyes bright as he remembered. ‘Yes, it was wonderful. We saw a lot of the country, didn’t we, Father?’

John returned his son’s happiness. ‘We did. You forget what a beautiful and varied place it is.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. It’s just a shame we couldn’t have shared in it together.’ He noted the slight tinge to Helen’s tone.

‘Well … it wasn’t possible on this occasion.’

Thomas continued. ‘It would’ve been good. It’s always great to hear different opinions and bounce thoughts off people. It was nice to have Julia there for a day but then she had to go.’

Immediately, John’s heartbeat quickened, his blood pounded in his ears.

Helen paused in her eating. ‘Who?’

‘Oh … I …’ Thomas looked wide-eyed, startled, and glanced from his mother to his father for support.

‘Julia? Did you say Julia?’ Helen asked, looking directly at John.

‘Yes,’ said Thomas.

‘Julia Mills?’

‘Yes,’ his son repeated, less assured now.

John added, keeping his voice as level and unfazed as possible, ‘She came with me. I needed someone who knew the situation and who also knew the area. It was essential.’

Helen was still staring fixedly at him. ‘Julia Mills came with you on the trip?’

Thomas interjected quickly. ‘But she left the day after I was rescued. She was only with us a day. She had to go visit a sick relative.’

'That's right,' added John. 'Her aunt.' 

‘But … she was there when you were rescued?’ asked his wife.

‘Yes.’

Helen at last started picking at her salad again, but at length queried, ‘So … she travelled out with you, John?’

‘That’s right, yes.’

‘In the car?’

‘Yes.’

‘From New York?’

‘Yes.’

Silence.

He could barely breathe, let alone speak. The weight of guilt almost crushed him. He opted for nonchalant small talk. ‘She hadn’t seen much of the Midwest before. It was all new to her.’

More silence, then, ‘Where did you stay?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘At night, where did you stay?’

He affected a shrug. ‘Motels. There were plenty of vacancies.’

‘Two rooms?’

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. ‘Uh huh. Amy, could you pass the potatoes, please?’

And, reaching across, Amy spilt her water. He took the opportunity to get up and fetch a cloth. No one mentioned Julia Mills again.

 --xoOox--

Weeks passed. To all intents and purposes, life was as it had been. Thomas seemed well, Helen and he appeared content, although their relationship seemed to exist through a gauze now; conversations and situations were blurred, the dynamic between them contrived. To the outside world, they were the same happy couple they had always been, but John knew the reality to be different.

Despite his guilt still simmering, even he admitted that the change had happened before Juliana, before the trip. Helen resented him; she had since she’d found out about Thomas. The situation with Juliana didn’t help his conscience, but in the weeks following the conversation at the dinner table, Helen hadn’t asked more about Julia Mills and the road trip, and for that he was grateful. If she had suspicions, she didn’t mention them.

John Smith paced into work as usual one Thursday, hanging up his cap, sitting at his desk, and reaching for his papers.

Erich Raeder came in and John greeted him with a smile. ‘Morning, Erich. How are things today?’

‘Very well, Oberst-Gruppenführer. And you?’

‘Good, Erich, good. Any news on that operation in Atlanta?’

‘Several suspected Resistance operatives have been arrested. They’ll be arriving here tomorrow for questioning.’

‘I’m pleased to hear it. I’ll leave that one to you.’

‘Are you sure, sir?’

‘Initially, yes. If you need my support, you only need to ask.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Erich turned to study his notes. ‘You’ve been requested in Berlin next month.’

John could not disguise the sigh which rose from him. ‘There it is. Still, I seem to have gotten away with it this long, so hopefully I’m doing something right.’

‘The Führer adores you, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’ Erich always knew how to reassure.

‘Long may it stay that way,’ he smirked.

Erich smiled back and held out a file. ‘Here are the rest of your papers, sir. I’ll leave you to get on.’

‘Thank you, Erich. I’ll just … get on then.’ He took them with a wry smile and turned his attention down to study them. Work was always a welcome distraction.

Raeder turned to leave but paused and looked over his shoulder at Smith. ‘Oh, one other thing, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

‘Yes?’

‘I thought you might want to know …’

John looked up distractedly, wishing Erich would leave him in peace.

‘Julia Mills is back. She returned to her apartment yesterday.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice long chappie for you, and it's only going to heat up again from here. Thoughts, as always, are hugely appreciated. Loving going on this journey with you. x


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait for an update. I have just been incredibly busy but I may well be able to get things going again for the next few weeks. x

Juliana Crain tried to avoid the tall building of the Greater Nazi Reich headquarters, but its looming structure imposed itself wherever she went, following her so that she grew colder as she passed through its inescapable shadow.

She had been surprised to find her apartment still accessible, her belongings still in place. She was more surprised when the locks remained unchanged in the days following her return. She knew the cameras were still working, the microphones still in operation, but nobody had come calling, nobody had disturbed her. Before, in its need to control and monitor her every move, the Reich itself had provided for her with money and utilities. The apartment was still hers for now, the utilities still worked, but the funds were no longer there.

She was running out of money. The little her sister had given her would not last long.

It was not easy to find a job in the Reich. There were few available as positions and people were so carefully policed that there was never any waste. Unemployment was virtually unheard of. Those who truly had no job tended to disappear quite quickly, whether by choice or regulation.

She spent her days walking the streets of New York, aware that her presence would not go unnoticed, but trying to maintain confidence nonetheless. She asked in accountancy firms, schools, she enquired after secretarial posts, in restaurants, there was nothing. She wondered if John realised her struggle. She wondered if he knew she was back.

Perhaps he did not. Perhaps he ranked so highly now that she didn’t merit troubling him over. Perhaps there was some other Nazi official scrutinising her every move. The idea left her with an unwanted sense of melancholy.

Juliana continued inquiring in every business she could for a job, but was only ever met with the same response: half pity, half disdain, a frosty no.

Her search took her to Hermann’s, the department store she had gone clothes shopping in with Lucy. She thought about her, how she had suffered, how unhappy she had been, a victim not only of the darker side of the Resistance, but of her own Reich. Walking through the space, a space adorned with designer clothes in creamy silks and cashmere, Juliana allowed the ache inside to catch her acutely and she nearly sobbed. But she was here for a reason, and holding her head high she approached a sales assistant.

‘Excuse me, I was wondering if there may be a position available?’

‘In sales?’ The girl, her hair pulled high, her make-up immaculate, looked Juliana over in that familiar way of contemptuous jealousy.

‘Or anything that might be going.’

‘Not here. And we appoint internally. Where do you work currently?’

‘I work at Dawson’s,’ she lied. Dawson’s was an upcoming retail store and rival to Hermann’s.

The girl’s eyebrows rose up. ‘And you want to move?’

‘Yes. I think the opportunities for someone with my ambition would be better here. I have much to offer.’ She spoke with smooth confidence which belied the churning insecurity inside. They would not want a shrinking violet.

The girl hesitated but Juliana had clearly made an impression. ‘I’ll go ask my manager.’

‘Thank you,’ said Juliana and hovered by the counter. She glanced around. The elegant figures of Reich wives wafted through the displays: cold marble statues brought to life like automatons.

‘Julia? Julia Mills?’

She turned. There, standing just behind her was Alice Adler. Juliana remembered to smile.

‘I thought it was you! We haven’t seen you in so long.’ Alice was smiling but her hands were kept tightly clasped to her purse.

‘Alice, goodness! No, I’ve been away. How are you?’ She tried to find words of comfort after the death of her husband but was struck suddenly with such immeasurable guilt that nothing more emerged. She had slept with his murderer.

Alice sighed. ‘As well as can be expected. The family are a great comfort.’

‘I’m sure.’ Her words were so hollow they sucked in the very air around them.

Alice smiled palely. ‘Looking for something in particular?’

‘Oh, I …’ Juliana vaguely motioned around the showroom. ‘I was just, you know …’

‘I’m after a hat for my niece’s graduation, but nothing seems to be right.’

‘I’m sure you’ll find something.’

‘Excuse me?’ came a voice behind her.

Juliana turned. The assistant had returned. ‘There’s nothing right now but he says check back next month if you’re still interested.’

Another one to cross off. Juliana could practically feel the hunger gnawing at her already.

‘Thank you.’ She turned reluctantly back to Alice.

‘Interested in what?’ the older woman inquired, barely trying to hide her intense curiosity.

‘I thought perhaps this would be a nice place to work.’

‘Work?’ Alice’s eyes widened.

‘Yes, I’m not the sort of person who can sit around all day. I like to be busy.’

‘And you could see yourself working here?’

‘I don’t really mind where.’

Alice laughed dismissively but caught herself. ‘Well, there’s a novel idea. But then, you’re not married yet. Once you have a man to look after it all changes.’ She glanced away, remembering herself. ‘That said, I’m having to adjust again.’

Juliana’s guilt over the death of Dr Adler fortunately tempered the bilious contempt that was rising at Alice’s attitude. She managed a terse smile.

‘It’s very good to see you again, Alice. I should get going. Take care.’

‘Good bye, Julia. Oh … you heard what happened to Lucy?’

Juliana paused and turned back. ‘Yes.’

‘Terrible business.’

‘It was.’ She paused, expecting Alice to add more than mere scrutiny. She didn’t so Juliana concluded simply, ‘Good bye.’

‘Good bye, Julia.’

With that, she started off, feeling Alice’s eyes boring into her back with every step. She had walked down this same aisle with Lucy that time, the time when she’d described John as dreadfully handsome. Juliana forced back her deep unease at the encounter with Alice and hurried out.

\--xoOox--

The next few days passed similarly. She sold two of her dresses which meant she’d be able to eat at least, but there was no luck with jobs. She was growing desperate. She knew where there was plenty of work: work which would fascinate her, work which would bring her into the heart of an organisation she wanted to understand and destroy in equal measure. But GNR headquarters was the one place Juliana did not go to inquire about employment.

She returned home a week after arriving back in New York and made herself a frugal meal. Just as she sat down to it the telephone rang.

It made her start in shock. The telephone never rang. She stood but for a while longer could only stare at it, as if it would explode should she go too close. What if it were him? Her heart beat quickened. She wanted it to be him.

_She couldn’t bear for it to be him._

The metallic clang rang through her ears demandingly and she crossed to the telephone.

Juliana grabbed at the receiver furtively and lifted it to her ear.

‘Hello?’

‘Julia? You _are_ back! I’d heard you were.’

It wasn’t John Smith. It was his wife.

‘Helen? Oh, hello. How are you?’

‘All things considered, I’m perfectly well. How are you?’

‘Fine … thank you.’

There was a pause, as if both women were waiting for the other to move first, as if they were circling each other on the air waves.

It was Helen who broke the silence. ‘I’m glad you’re back. I heard you’d been visiting a sick relative.’

She swallowed hard. He must have told her that. ‘Yes. My uncle.’

‘Your uncle?’

‘He’s had pneumonia but he’s better now.’

‘I see.’ There was a hesitation. ‘Thomas is home, Julia.’

‘I know.’

‘I understand you were there when John went to get him.’

‘Yes.’

Her stomach churned so much she feared she would be sick while talking. She clutched the telephone until her knuckles blanched.

‘Thomas says you were very kind, that you helped secure his release.’

‘I did what had to be done.’

‘Julia … thank you.’

Helen said those two words with aching sincerity and Juliana took it. But she could say no more. Her eyes were hot with prickling tears at the memory of what happened the day they rescued Thomas. Combined with her guilt over sleeping with this woman’s husband, her emotions conspired to upend her.

‘Julia?’

‘Yes?’ she managed.

‘You must come over for dinner. I’d like to thank you properly for all you’ve done for Thomas.’

_Fuck, she couldn’t. She couldn’t, she couldn’t._ She squeezed her eyes tight shut against the lure of domestic happiness, against the desire to see their happy children, to feel the security, to assure herself Thomas was okay … to see John again.

‘Oh, no, really, that’s not necessary. I was just doing my job.’

‘No, you must, I insist.’

‘Helen, honestly, I don’t want to impose on your family.’

‘Oh, you won’t.’

‘But you’re all so busy. The Oberst-Gruppenfuhrer doesn’t want to be bothered with –‘

‘Oh, John won’t be here. I was thinking of next Tuesday. You’re right, he’s ridiculously busy. I barely see him. He has a meeting that night until late so will sleep in the office so don’t let it trouble you. You know how much the children and Thomas would love to see you. You must come.’

‘Really, Helen, it’s not necessary, I –‘

‘7 o’clock next Tuesday. I insist. I’ll see you then. Good bye for now.’

And she hung up.

Juliana replaced the receiver. _Shit_. She folded her arms about her and stared from the window. But if he wasn’t there then … that was alright, wasn’t it? Helen would clearly not have taken no for an answer. And she wanted to see Thomas again and Jennifer and Amy. They had had happy times. Perhaps one dinner would be alright. Just one. Then she could well and truly move on.

\--xoOox--

Tuesday came round quickly. She wore her grey dress, one of the few she hadn’t sold. It still fitted well, but she became aware that it sat looser on her than before. She applied some rouge and lipstick and smoothed down her hair, ready for the evening in Long Island.

Juliana caught a bus to the end of their road and walked down it. The reds of autumn were stunningly beautiful along the avenue and as she approached the Smiths’ house she indulged herself with a contentment she had not felt since returning to New York. She paused outside, remembering the time she’d spoken to John out here. A shudder passed through her at the memory of it, not from distaste but longing, she knew it. She shook it off quickly. His car was not to be seen and she was reassured that he was indeed away. Juliana took a breath and turned up the drive.

She rang the bell. There was a muffled calling from inside and footsteps came hurrying from various corners of the house.

It was Amy who managed to answer first and as soon as she opened the door, she threw herself at Juliana and hugged her tight.

‘Whoa! Someone’s excited!’ she laughed.

‘Julia! I missed you! It’s so good to see you!’ Jennifer soon bundled in too and Juliana stroked the girls’ hair with a smile.

‘It’s so good to see you too. You’ve grown!’

‘Oh, everyone says that.’ They took her hands and pulled her in. Juliana stepped into the familiar hallway and inhaled. She thought she could smell him, that lingering citrus aroma which intoxicated her so. She steadied herself. Helen approached from the kitchen.

‘Julia! How lovely to see you.’

The wife of the man she’d had the best sex of her life with came over and embraced her. Juliana handed over the flowers she’d brought and managed to hug her back. Helen pulled back and studied her, still holding her arm. ‘Thank you for all you did. I mean that so much.’

‘I couldn’t have done anything else.’

She looked over Helen’s shoulder. Thomas was walking over. He’d styled his hair differently, more like his father, and was wearing a shirt and tie and long trousers. He was trying to look grown up, she knew. He didn’t, but she felt like flattering him.

‘Thomas! I hardly recognised you. You look so sharp with your hair like that.’

‘Hi, Julia.’

She took a step forward to give him a warm hug but he leaned in awkwardly and planted a pecked kiss on her cheek. She gave a little chuckle to laugh it off. He wasn’t laughing, just staring at her so intently she had to look away. ‘You look really good, Julia. That dress is pretty.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured and hurriedly followed Helen into the sitting room. Her hostess placed a glass of white wine in her hand.

‘Dinner won’t be long. I made fish pie. I hope that’s ok.’

‘Sounds lovely, thank you.’

They all sat on the sofa and for a time no one spoke. The girls giggled a little and Thomas glared at them.

‘I understand you saw Alice Adler the other day?’ said Helen.

‘That’s right.’

‘She was the one who told me you were back.’

‘Oh?’ Did she sound as surprised as she was? Had John not mentioned it? Perhaps, like she had wondered, he didn’t even know.

‘She also told me you were looking for a job.’

‘I … yes.’

‘Jobs are very hard to come by in the Reich if you’re not already on the employment ladder.’

‘I’ve found that.’

‘Alice said you liked the idea of working.’

‘Yes. I do.’

‘But you don’t _need_ to?’ Helen stressed the word need in a way which made Juliana sharp with brewing annoyance.

‘Well …’

‘Are you short of money? I suppose with no husband …’

‘I’ll find a job. It’s not a problem.’

‘I thought you were working for John.’

‘Only on that one occasion.’

‘He seemed to rely on your experience near the neutral zone.’ Helen took a drink from her glass but Juliana could feel her eyes on her. Juliana couldn’t look at her.

‘I was happy to help for Thomas’ sake.’

‘I wish you could have stayed longer, Julia,’ added Thomas.

‘Me too, but … my uncle was unwell, so … I went to look after him.’

‘Your uncle? I thought it was your aunt?’ Thomas frowned in bewilderment.

Her breath caught. Lies must be consistent. ‘No, my uncle.’

‘Father said it was your aunt.’

Her mouth ran dry. She took a drink to relieve it. ‘He must have misheard.’

She made the mistake of glancing at Helen who was staring at her, the earlier warmth gone from her face. _Shit,_ _she_ _wanted_ _out_.

‘Do you want to play a game while we wait to eat?’ asked Jennifer.

‘Umm … I …’

Helen stood quickly and brushed down her skirts. ‘It’s just about ready. Amy, come help me with the table.’

‘Yes, Mother.’

Jennifer tried to get a game of I Spy going which Juliana could not focus on at all. It wasn’t helped by Thomas’ constant smirks of increasingly conspiratorial intent. Luckily they were called to the table a short while later.

As the food was served she allowed herself to relax again. Helen seemed to have eased off on her intense scrutiny and conversed warmly. The food was good and the children happy. Juliana tried not to make eye contact with Thomas who she could feel staring at her the entire time. She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or frustrated. It added to her malaise but the conversation was content enough for her to think she may be able to survive the meal after all. She need only stay another hour or so and then she would have done her duty.

‘Thomas, are you ready for that biology test tomorrow?’ asked Helen.

‘I believe so, Mother.’

‘You haven’t studied tonight, Thomas,’ teased Jennifer, glancing at Juliana. ‘You were getting yourself ready for hours.’

‘Shut up, Jennifer,’ snapped Thomas.

‘Now, now, that’s enough,’ warned Helen.

Juliana reached for her drink. ‘It’s not much use revising right before a test anyway. Always better to do little and often in the run up.’

‘I have a spelling test tomorrow,’ piped up Amy. ‘Nobody’s bothered about that.’

‘I’ll help you with them after the meal if you’d like,’ Juliana added with a smile.

There was a noise from the hallway. It was the front door closing.

‘Oh!’ said Helen with a broad smile. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

‘Hello! Hope you’ve saved me some!’ called a voice.

Juliana clutched her wine glass so hard it nearly broke. She stared down at her plate, her mind blank, her heart juddering within her.

Helen walked over to the kitchen door, calling to the person who’d just arrived, ‘We have a visitor, sweetheart. Look who’s here!’

And into the kitchen, in full SS uniform, walked Oberst-Gruppenführer John Smith.

She noted the flare of his eyes when he saw her, the clenching of his jaw, the way he darted his gaze around in confusion. Juliana was robbed of breath at the sight of him: the horror of discovery, the guilt of adultery, and still, despite it all, the sudden, violent reminder of desire.

John exhaled in audible surprise but quickly straightened himself. ‘Julia!’

For a time she could only stare but checked herself and forced a pleasantly neutral smile to her face. ‘Hello, John. I hadn’t realised you would be here.’

‘I thought you had a meeting tonight, honey,’ said Helen.

He didn’t at first answer. John swallowed hard and turned blearily to his wife. ‘What?’

‘You told me you had a late meeting and would sleep at the office.’

‘A meeting?’ His brows met in confusion. ‘Tomorrow. I have a meeting tomorrow.’

‘How strange. I thought sure you’d said today.’ Helen crossed to study the wall calendar and tutted. ‘How silly of me, you’re right, it is tomorrow.’

Juliana pushed herself rapidly to her feet. ‘I’ll go. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t impose.’

Head down, she started for the door but Helen stepped practically right into her path to block her. ‘Don’t be silly, there’s plenty for everyone. John doesn’t mind at all, do you, John?’

Her husband shook his head, hands deep in pockets, staring at the floor. ‘Well, it’s …’

‘It’s perfectly fine. Stay.’ Helen’s tone left no room for dissent.

Silence fell. Juliana glanced at him. He was looking anywhere but at her, a flush on those high cheekbones. She tried not to notice how the uniform accentuated his shoulders, she tried to ignore the familiar lurch in her belly. She tried to banish the wash of shame flooding her.

‘I have to go change,’ he said and, turning rapidly, quickly paced from the room.

Helen came back over to the table. ‘Sit down, Julia, have some more wine.’ She reached for the bottle and topped up Juliana’s glass before filling her own. ‘Isn’t this nice? Now you two can tell us all about what you got up to on your trip.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #awks  
> #thoughts?


	16. Chapter 16

John Smith had said he was going upstairs to change but found himself standing in his bedroom staring at himself in the mirror.

Guilt was something he had learned to subdue to the point of elimination over the years, but now it hit him with force.

He stood in his uniform, the belt tight about his waist, the lapels rigidly symmetrical, the armband a lurid red. He moved his gaze up and met his own eyes. Narrowing them, he tried to fathom the situation.

She could not be here in his own home, or at least she should not be. He knew she was back in New York. He was pleased that he’d resisted going round to the apartment or even driving past it. Goddamn it, he hadn’t even asked to see any of the surveillance tapes.

And now, here she was, in his kitchen, sitting smiling with his family.

Helen had clearly invited her knowing he’d return to find them.

_Fuck_.

His wife was allowed her suspicions. Any two people spending time alone on a long car journey would raise suspicions.

He looked at himself again, the black of his uniform in stark contrast to the pale walls behind him. What did Juliana see? The calculating officer of a regime she despised? The man she had laughed with and shared confidences with, whom she’d been unable to stop kissing and holding and taking inside her? The man who had not wanted her to stop?

She was downstairs now. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing but the sight of her remained fixed on his retina. So effortlessly, unassumingly beautiful – Juliana, in his kitchen now.

Forcing awareness back into him he at last began tugging at his uniform, pulling it off so hard he almost tore a button.

He must go back down. Helen’s suspicions must be dowsed immediately. He could rely on Juliana to help with that. They worked well together, after all.

He paced into the bathroom and splashed his face before putting on a casual shirt and pants. As an afterthought he applied some cologne, then fixed his mouth into a relaxed smile and returned to the kitchen.

He would make it work.

\--xoOox--

Leaning down, John gave his wife a kiss on the cheek before sitting. ‘Thanks for this, honey, it looks great. So, Julia, it’s good to see you back. I hope your aunt is feeling better.’

Juliana let out a little laugh. ‘It was my uncle, John, I thought I’d told you. But, like I also said, my aunt’s the powerhouse in that relationship, so I’ll let you off the hook.’

_Fuck, a mistake_. She was covering for him. He sniffed out a laugh and reached casually for the wine. ‘Yeah, she sounded like quite the character, no wonder I got confused. But, your uncle, yes, of course. How is he?’

‘Much better, thanks. I appreciate you letting me go.’

‘Not a problem.’

‘Did you and Thomas have a good trip back?’ Juliana smiled warmly at his son who basked in the radiance of it. She’d recovered from her own shock at seeing him and was as innocently smooth as she could be. He managed not to stare in admiration, although she was wearing that dress that made her look so fucking attractive he was almost compelled to.

He nodded. ‘It was great, wasn’t it, Thomas? Lots of time together to see our beautiful country.’

He noticed his wife was not speaking. He reached over with the wine bottle. ‘More, Helen?’

She smiled and held out her glass. He glanced across to offer Juliana more but her glass had barely been touched.

‘When did you get back, Julia?’ he inquired, an unnecessary question as he knew precisely that the surveillance footage had traced her returning to her apartment at 4:32pm on the 23rd September.

‘Nearly a week ago.’

‘Keeping yourself busy?’

‘I’m trying.’

‘Julia’s looking for a job.’ Helen at last spoke.

‘Oh?’ He realised suddenly that the funds he’d been providing her with had stopped.

‘Yes. I’d love to work.’

‘Any luck?’

Helen shook her head. ‘You know what it’s like, John. Women don’t just waltz into employment.’

‘Something will turn up eventually,’ added Juliana.

‘I’m sure there’s something you know of in the GNR.’ It was Helen again. She was testing him. How to respond? If he said yes, she may take it as him wanting Julia to work near him, if no, it may appear that he was trying too hard to appear disinterested.

He opted for casual insouciance. ‘I could ask around.’

‘That’s alright,’ protested Juliana, unsurprisingly.

‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Julia,’ said Helen, taking a drink and staring hard at Juliana over the rim.

‘I don’t want to take advantage of anyone.’

Helen laughed aloud. ‘Oh, sweetheart, not take advantage? How do you think the Reich operates?’

‘I’ll find something.’

‘You might not. You’ll look into it, won’t you, John?’

He could do without this. If his wife was deliberately niggling him it was working, but he managed smooth evasion. Smiling warmly at Juliana – warm yet unprovocative – he replied, ‘Sure. I’ll see what I can do.’

He noted the slightest flare in Juliana’s eyes before she too pulled down the mask of innocent propriety. ‘Well, that’s very kind. Thank you.’

They chatted freely for a while about the children’s activities and acquaintances. He was pleased with how natural and open he and Juliana were. It relieved him but at the same time reminded him of their compatibility.

‘Whatever did you two talk about when you were travelling out west? Discussing the bureaucracy of the Reich can’t have been high on the agenda?’ Helen asked. He managed a laugh of compliance, as did Juliana.

‘No,’ she smirked. ‘I think we exhausted that on the first day. It was good travelling through the Midwest though. John told me a few tales of his childhood.’

She was feeding their deception beautifully. With a chuckle he took it. ‘Yeah … I told Julia that story about the time Jimmy Dupont fell into the quarry. You remember, Helen? I had to go and tell his dad who insisted on me personally climbing down a rope to help him back up. I think it took us about ten goes and his dad just stood at the top with his arms crossed, waiting.’

Juliana continued to go along with it, joining in with a laugh. ‘Sounds like such a lovely man. I can’t believe he just left you to it.’

‘Well, I tell you, we never went near that quarry again.’

Helen smiled too, free of guile it seemed to him. Perhaps they were allaying her suspicions after all.

‘Did you have any trouble on the way?’ she asked.

_He heard again the snapping crunch of bone and spinal cord as he twisted Bernhoffer’s neck._ ‘None at all. It went very quickly actually, and then …’ He reached over and held onto Thomas’ shoulder. ‘We got him back.’

Helen beamed at her son, her eyes aglow with love. She had virtually forgotten the other woman was there.

He glanced at Juliana. She met his eyes briefly. They’d got away with it.

\--xoOox--

After supper the children were allowed outside in the yard for a while. Amy and Jennifer insisted on Juliana playing a game of tag with them. Thomas initially feigned reluctance but then joined in enthusiastically, focusing all his energy on catching Juliana who always managed to keep an arm’s length away from him.

John stayed inside and cleared up while Helen sorted the children’s things then, when he was done, he went outside for a cigarette.

He stood for a while as she ran around the garden with his children. Her laughter rippled up from her like butterflies released from wisteria. She was quick and agile, always able to evade the clutches of eager hands.

He had thought he would be immune to it here, back at home. The John Smith who had slept with her had been so far removed from his life here that he could disassociate himself from it. Yet here she was, and that aching need inside had returned with force. He resented her for it. He almost wanted her gone, but at the same time that would pain him so much that he just stared at her as she darted from one side to the other, reaching out for Jennifer, evading Thomas, holding Amy’s hand and dashing around with her.

‘Children!’ His wife appeared and called to them. ‘Bath then bed. It’s very late, come along.’

‘Oh, do we have to?’ tried Jennifer. ‘Julia has to go soon. We’re having so much fun.’

‘Do as your mother says,’ John said. ‘Upstairs with all of you.’

With only mild protest, his children left the yard, hugging Juliana good bye before coming over and kissing him good night. Thomas lingered longer than the others, but even he was soon inside. Helen ushered them all upstairs before following behind.

Juliana remained in the yard, recovering her breath, her back turned to him. Slowly, he walked over until he was only a pace behind her. For a time he enjoyed the silence, the moonlight, the lure of understanding.

‘Why did you come back?’

She crossed her arms about her. ‘Because I had nowhere else to go.’

‘No life elsewhere after all?’

‘Apparently not.’

There was a pause, although he could sense words forming on her lips. He granted her time to voice them.

‘Why did you let me go?’

‘Good question, Miss Crain. A moment of weakness, probably.’

‘Don’t expect my gratitude.’

‘Oh, I don’t.’ He glanced down at her and thought that under her flinty gaze there was the slightest rise at the corner of her lip. He let a curl of satisfying warmth course through him and said, ‘Perhaps I knew you’d come back.’

She didn’t at first reply. He looked at the line of her neck, how it stretched swan-like in the moonlight. He knew it well, his lips knew it, his hands … his teeth … He shifted his feet apart to ground himself.

‘You’re still having me watched,’ she continued eventually. ‘I know the cameras are still on in the apartment.’

‘I haven’t seen any of the footage.’ He spoke quickly and wondered at his need to reassure her.

She almost turned towards him, surprised, he could tell, but she resisted.

‘Despite not seeing it, you know I can’t stop the surveillance on you. If nothing else, in the eyes of the Reich, you have too much awareness, too much curiosity.’

‘Can’t stop it or won’t?’ She hesitated before carrying on, needing to say it aloud, it seemed, ‘I only came back because … I need to understand what the hell I’m doing with my life. And I can’t do that in the Neutral Zone. That’s the only reason I came back, I want you to know that.’

‘You don’t have to explain.’

‘I mean, I’m not …’

‘I know what you mean.’

Silence. He could smell her scent on the air. He recalled vividly the last time he’d smelt it as he lay on top of her in the wood, pinning her to the ground.

‘I would never have come here tonight if I’d thought for an instant you were going to be here. Helen insisted. She told me you’d be away.’

‘She knew I wouldn’t. She was testing us.’

‘Does she know?’ She turned her head a little towards him, alarmed, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him fully.

‘No. She can’t. But she’s suspicious … or curious, at least. I think after tonight she won’t be any more. We handled it well.’

‘Handled it?’ Juliana sniffed out a cynical laugh. ‘I’d rather not have to handle it at all.’

‘You think I would?’

She drew in a breath and scuffed at the ground. ‘I don’t want the job.’

‘I can easily get you one.’

‘I’m not working in that place, for those people.’

‘You need money. The Reich has stopped subsidising you, on my orders.’

‘I’ll find something.’

‘You need a job, Miss Crain. I can get you one.’

She closed her eyes against it. ‘I don’t want your charity, John.’

‘Pride won’t put food in your belly.’

She opened her mouth as if to retort but seemed to think better of it and let her head fall instead. ‘I was surprised I could still use the apartment, but then … now that I’m back, it makes sense. Cameras …’

He had no response. Silence fell again. They stood quite still in the darkness. It reminded him of times out on the road, of easy strolls back to motel rooms. He tuned into the chirruping of the crickets. That familiar harmony between them dared start to creep back.

‘How have you been?’ he asked gently, wanting desperately to know.

She sucked in sharply as if annoyed he should ask, but then answered, ‘Fine. I’m fine. But I’m tired of buses and trains.’

He sniffed out in understanding.

‘And you? How have you been?’ she added, just as genuine, the warmth of her voice as alluring as the curve of her waist.

He inhaled deeply. ‘It’s good to be here with Thomas.’

‘He seems really good. Is he well?’

‘At the moment.’

‘And no repercussions from what happened at the facility?’

‘No.’

She sighed and at last turned to face him. He almost fell into her eyes with the sudden perfection of it. ‘Look, I … I have to go. Good bye, John.’

But she didn’t move. If he looked hard enough at her he thought perhaps everything else would vanish and it would be just the two of them again. And she was so very easy to look at.

For a time he thought she would step into him. For a time he thought he’d do the same. She didn’t move, despite saying she would, but then, whispering, she said, ‘I must go. If Helen finds us talking like this ...’

At the mention of his wife’s name reality struck hard, as if someone had snatched away their muggy moonlit complicity and turned on a neon strip light. But he had needed it. He would not fall again.

‘Yes,’ he murmured, dropping his head. ‘Good bye.’ He stepped back to let her past and she walked into the house. He followed only when she was ready to go.

Juliana, her coat on, called gently up the stairs. ‘Helen? I’m leaving now. Thank you so much for a lovely evening.’

Helen came downstairs. ‘So soon? Can’t you stay for a drink?’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to miss the bus.’

‘Oh, John could run you home, I’m sure.’

Another test? He rose to it. ‘Sure, I can drop you off and be back here in twenty.’

‘No, honestly, you’ve both been too kind,’ she said quickly. ‘I like taking the bus anyway. Thank you so much for a fabulous meal, and it was so good to see you too, John, I hadn’t thought you’d be here. I’m sure you were sick of the sight of me after the road trip.’ _Oh, she was smooth_.

‘Don’t be silly,’ he added, and put his arm round his wife to reinforce the deceit, ‘but I’ll admit it was good to get home.’

He smiled down at Helen and she returned it warmly. Between them, he and Juliana had dissipated her brewing suspicions. He allowed himself a tinge of pride. He reached over and opened the door for Juliana. ‘Good bye, Julia. Thanks for entertaining the kids.’

Helen kissed the woman he’d slept with on both cheeks, genuinely it seemed to him. ‘Good bye,’ his wife said. ‘And thank you once again for all you’ve done for us.’

A sudden twist in his belly. _All she’d done for them … for him_ …

Juliana gave her sweet, shy smile which made his belly twist in another way altogether and walked out down the path. He shut the door behind her.

‘Well, that was nice,’ Helen said.

He could try a little more damage limitation. ‘Yeah, she’s great with the kids, but … I wish you’d checked before asking her over. She’s got a point … I could do without seeing her for a good while. This is my family time, Helen. I associate Julia Mills with work. And I couldn’t say anything in front of her, but I’ve got to admit that trip was tough. There are only so many tales of childhood scrapes I can recount without boring everyone crazy, including myself.’

The guilt of deception was lessened by his determination that he would never sleep with Juliana Crain again. He could almost grant himself the luxury of believing his own lies.

‘Well, it’s over now, and, like I told you, John, I didn’t think you’d be around tonight.’

He sighed and came over. ‘I forgive you.’ With a teasing smile, he put his arms around her. ‘Thousands wouldn’t.’ John leaned down and kissed her. She kissed him back and it pleased him, not through desire but relief.

Helen returned it with the most ardour she’d shown for months and he took the opportunity to weave another strand in his web of pretence. His wife’s kiss was one of the most familiar things in his life, but although it was a kiss he had longed for over the years, he did not concentrate on her.

As he moved over her lips, John Smith, despite his best intentions, imagined it was someone else he was kissing, someone who had just hurried out into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh what a tangled web we weave ...
> 
> Thanks for the immense and informed interest in this story. I am desperate for news of Series 3 but in the meantime our little fandom keeps things ticking over. Keep the love coming - I adore your comments. x


	17. Chapter 17

Juliana walked slowly to the bus stop. She had turned down his offer of a lift. Helen had seemed almost indifferently accepting of the idea, but Juliana had not wished to raise her suspicions again, not after they had worked so hard – successfully, it seemed – to dispel them.

It would have been nice to walk with him, perhaps.

She stopped and chided herself.

But the air was warm, the night quiet. It reminded her of those times they had spent – muggy evenings of companionship and conversation before closing a motel room door and seeking a different type of companionship.

She started walking again more forcefully to reach the bus stop. The bus arrived soon enough and she got on and sat, one of only two other passengers.

Juliana stared from the window as the bus swayed through the streets. She was biting her nails although she didn’t realise it.

When he had walked into the kitchen she had wanted to be unmoved, to hate him even. But instead her emotions and her body betrayed her.

She had told herself that her attraction was understandable on their trip, permissible even because he was out of uniform. In the car, in his clean cotton shirts, he was not the Obergruppenführer she should detest, but John Smith, an American from the Midwest who laughed with her about charred steak and pointed out the stars.

Then, she had forgotten his uniform and she had forgotten its associations.

And he had walked into the kitchen in full regalia, the swastika glaringly visible on his arm. She had wanted to recoil from it, she had wanted it to crush her attraction.

It hadn’t.

She abhorred the insignia and the regime it stood for with as much passion as always, but, closing her eyes now, she pictured him standing there, the black lines of his clothing sharp, highlighting the taut figure underneath that she knew so well. It spoke of authority, but an authority which she herself had turned on its head when she straddled him, working him to orgasms so powerful they were bound together.

From the moment he had been before her again, despite the shock and horror of it all, she could not pretend otherwise: her desire was stronger than ever.

It was the paradox of him. Beyond his transcendent handsomeness and his easy charm, she desired the contradiction of him; it made her question her own motives and ideals. She liked that. She _loved_ that: the way he made her question herself. Wasn’t that what life was about – self-discovery? Shouldn’t it be a battle, a struggle to comprehend and realise?

Juliana couldn’t shake the conundrum of her attraction for him. It was only because the driver called back and asked her where she was heading that she remembered to get off the bus.

For once, when entering her apartment, Juliana forgot the cameras and microphones. She kicked off her shoes and sank down into a chair. Eventually, her eyes rose to the picture frame which she knew concealed a camera. She stared straight at it. He’d said he hadn’t seen any of the footage since her return. It almost disappointed her.

Juliana cursed her own emotions. She forced herself up and quickly prepared for sleep. She had not come back to New York for John Smith. She had come back because she could go nowhere else. Where else was she to make sense of it all?

She had intended to avoid him, never to see him again, and yet within a week of her return she had found herself standing with him in his garden talking with that innate understanding and acceptance they’d discovered on the trip.

 _Acceptance_?

She nearly baulked.

As his face swam before her vision, another ghosted across her mind – Helen.

They had allayed his wife’s suspicions, she could tell, and that in itself made guilt coil through her with malicious exactitude. What harm had Helen ever done her, save for welcoming her and treating her with the utmost kindness and acceptance? And she had repaid her by sleeping with her husband then weaving a gauze of deception in her own home.

Nobody deserved that. Juliana squeezed her eyes tight shut and felt them hot with threatening tears. She was the woman who had saved Thomas Smith, not the one who had come between his mother and father. That was not her.

It was over and it would remain that way.

As she lay down to sleep she focused on the places she planned to go tomorrow to ask about jobs. She would ensure she did not see John Smith again.

\--xoOox--

The following day, Juliana trawled from school to real estate office to restaurant, seeking ever further out of Manhattan in her desperation. It was futile. Even if she got a job here, the cost of travelling out every day would be exorbitant. She returned home to an empty fridge. Juliana began to feel again what she had hoped returning to New York would dispel – panic.

She needed a job, urgently. And just as she sat down, hungry, despondent, her head in her hands, the telephone rang. She wondered briefly if it was Helen again – she seemed to be the only person who called. Juliana stood and crossed to answer it.

‘Hello?’

‘Miss Julia Mills?’ came a terse voice down the line.

‘Yes.’

‘You are invited for interview at the headquarters of the Greater Nazi Reich tomorrow at 10am.’

A ball of air caught in her chest. ‘Excuse me?’

’10 o’clock tomorrow morning. An interview.’

‘For what position?’

‘Assistant to the Head of Accounts.’

‘But … I haven’t applied for a job there.’

There was barely a pause. ‘Will you be attending the interview?’

Her pride tried hard to resist. ‘I think there’s been some mistake.’

‘You are Miss Julia Mills?’

‘Yes.’

‘Of 17b Poplar Avenue Heights?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you’re invited for interview. Will you be attending?’

‘Umm.’

‘I need an answer, Miss Mills.’

‘Yes … yes, I’ll be there. But I’m … I’m not an –‘

She began to say she knew nothing about accounts, but her stomach grumbled at that precise moment. Choice was denied her; hunger trumped defiance.

‘I’ll be there. 10am.’

‘Report to the main reception.’

‘Alright.’

The person on the end hung up.

For a time Juliana stood clutching the receiver. He had arranged this, there was no doubt. She wanted to be angry: he had ignored her. She had told him she didn’t want his job and he had ignored her.

But instead, as she finally put down the receiver and made her way to the bathroom, she felt instead the sweeping wash of relief and, as much as she wished to pretend otherwise, the undeniable tingle of excitement.

\--xoOox---

As Juliana Crain approached the GNR building the following day at 9:45, her nerves almost failed her. The structure loomed as she got closer, as if the building itself would interrogate and see through her deceit before she’d even set foot inside.

But, then, what deceit? She had no intention of espionage; that had caused her too much trouble. She had no intention of seeking out John Smith. She needed a job, that was all.

Holding her head up, she walked concertedly into the building.

The dark polished surfaces gleamed as if to reflect away any hint of fragility immediately. All around her seemed to be black – surfaces, clothing – hard edges, cold metal and stone. She shuddered a little and glanced about for the reception desk.

It was a little off to the side and she was relieved to see a young woman with a pleasant, relaxed face behind it. It surprised her.

‘Good morning,’ she tried.

The woman looked up with an honest enough smile. ‘Good morning. Your business?’

‘My name is Julia Mills. I’m here for interview.’

‘For which position?’

Julia wasn’t even sure she could remember. ‘The accounts department.’ That was all she recalled from the rushed conversation on the phone.

The woman seemed unfazed and cast her eyes over a document in front of her. ‘Yes, Julia Mills, assistant to the head of accounts. Papers, please.'

Juliana handed them over. The woman seemed quickly satisfied. 'Take a seat over there and someone will be with you shortly.’

She looked up and smiled warmly. Juliana could almost forget where she was and the organisation she could be working for.

‘Thank you,’ she muttered, and went to sit down on a row of chairs. Nobody else came to sit with her. Were there no other candidates?

At 10 o’clock precisely a man in a crisp blue suit approached and stopped before her. ‘Miss Mills?’

‘Yes?’

Again, he looked unassuming and pleasant. ‘My name is Peter Thorning. I work in the accounts department here. If you’d care to follow me.’

‘Thank you.’ She stood and walked with him along a corridor and into an elevator. He said little but if she glanced his way he smiled pleasantly enough.

They exited the elevator and continued through corridors and past offices. Here, the décor was less oppressively intimidating. It reminded her of the department store offices her mother had worked in in northern California.

‘Through here.’ Thorning opened a door for her into a bright room with a large window. There was a chair before a desk behind which were two chairs. He went and sat in one while she sat opposite. Thorning took out a pen and began writing on a document before him.

‘Are there no other candidates?’ she dared.

‘No.’

‘I see.’

He said no more but she didn’t feel particularly uncomfortable, merely curious. The door at last opened and an older man came in, early fifties, perhaps, balding, with round spectacles perched on his nose. He was dressed smartly enough in a suit but she noticed that his top button was undone beneath his tie. He smiled broadly and reached out to shake her hand.

‘Good morning, Miss Mills. I am Herr Genten.’ His German accent was clear but lilting, warming rather than harsh. ‘Thank you for coming in today. It is a formality really, we would like you to start work as soon as possible, tomorrow if you can. Today would be even better but I would not presume to disrupt anything you may have planned for the rest of the day.’

He looked up and smiled again.

‘I … excuse me … a formality?’ She frowned in bewilderment. Surely even John would have insisted she go through a proper interview.

‘We are offering you the job, you realise. You come highly recommended.’

‘From whom?’

He chuckled slightly and applied himself to writing on a document. He did not provide an answer.

‘Do you wish to see my curriculum vitae?’ she tried.

‘That won’t be necessary.’ He didn’t even look up.

‘I’ve worked in a variety of positions, from secretarial work personal assistance, but –‘

‘You have worked for the Reich before, I understand.’

‘I …’

‘For the Oberst-Gruppenführer himself.’

‘I have … just once.’

Genten glanced up while writing and smiled again. ‘We have every faith in your abilities, Miss Mills.’

‘But … I must be honest … I'm not entirely sure what the job entails.’

He smiled again and looked at her slightly more intently than before. ‘You will be my assistant. Dictation, shorthand, filing, liaising with other departments, arranging meetings, general work as needs be. The accounts department is hardly at the cutting edge of Reich business, Miss Mills, but we serve a very important purpose.’

‘I don’t have to do any accounting?’

He laughed. ‘No, have no fear, I will not expect that of you! Your salary will be 32,000 marks a year and any rent will be paid on top of that. I hope that’s as expected.’

Her stomach lurched with amazement. She had never imagined a salary like it. ’32 thousand marks?’

Genten looked up, an expression of genuine concern on his face. ‘Is that not what you were expecting?’

‘No, I … that’s … very generous, thank you.’

‘You are also of course permitted to claim travel and hotel expenses as necessary.’

‘Will there be much travelling involved?’

‘Not much, but occasionally you may have to accompany me on business, to Berlin, for example.’

‘Berlin?’

He picked up on her surprise. ‘You’ve never been to Berlin?’

‘I haven’t.’

He smiled warmly. ‘Well … you have a real treat in store then, Miss Mills.’

She liked him, despite the Nazi insignia around his office which she could not ignore. ‘You’re originally from Germany?’

‘Yes, from the Black Forest, a beautiful place. I miss it greatly.’ He had a wistful expression which made her warm to him further. These constant reminders of the humanity of people who had chosen to be Nazis disturbed her as much as the people themselves impressed her.

Genten looked up with a smile. ‘Anyway. Are you able to start tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Will your retiring assistant be able to show me the ropes?’

‘No, but there’ll be others who will. She didn’t retire.’

‘Oh? A promotion?’

His voice lost a little of its pleasantry. ‘No. She’s no longer working here.’

Had Smith simply fired someone in order to make way for her? She swallowed back the acid of her dismay.

Genten stood and held out his hand. She rose too and shook it. ‘It is very good to have you here, Miss Mills. You must know a few people working here already.’

‘A few.’ She lied.

‘I’m afraid you may not see them often. This is an enormous building. I can go months without seeing colleagues who are only two or three floors away.’

She laughed. That was a relief. The likelihood of seeing John Smith was not great. ‘That’s fine. I barely know anyone.’

‘Apart from Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith, of course.’ It was said with something more than the lilt of passing conversation. She averted her eyes.

‘Well … yes … but he won’t be bothered with me.’

Genten smirked. ‘His office is a long way from here and he’s a very busy man, but … he clearly rates you very highly.’

She hoped her blush wasn’t obvious. ‘That’s very kind of him. Good bye, Mr Genten,’ she said rapidly, extending her hand.

‘Good bye, Miss Mills. Mr Thorning will show you out. If you report to the main reception again tomorrow they will provide you with the security details necessary and you can make your way up here. Floor 31, Area 5B.’

‘I hope I remember.’

‘I’m sure you will.’

She left the office and went out in the warm sunshine of the New York afternoon. She had 10 marks left. She spent it on steak and chocolate.

\--xoOox--

Her first day went well. Her colleagues were friendly and supportive. The work was hardly cutting edge – filing appointments and minutes, none of which seemed to contain anything other than dry lists of figures and numbers which held no meaning or significance to Juliana – but it was diverting enough. She suspected the documents were coded in various ways, but even then they didn’t seem controversial.

Genten was kind and courteous, asking frequently if she needed advice or support. She wanted to impress him and did. She had her own office off his, but the door was kept open to a larger office where several others were employed, including Peter Thorning.

Time passed and John Smith was nowhere to be seen. She soon received her first pay cheque and nearly laughed aloud when she saw the figures.

At a desk in the corner worked a girl called Kitty Marshall, a woman with a curious mind and bright eyes. Kitty was in her early 20s and could not remember a time before Nazi rule. Juliana almost envied her her naivety and lack of awareness of what had been.

Kitty was conscientious and dedicated and left well alone when work demanded it, but she had a sweet sparkiness which Juliana liked greatly. She was proving to be a good lunch companion when it wasn’t possible to escape outside on her breaks.

‘So … you liking it here?’ asked Kitty as they sat in the canteen a couple of weeks after Juliana had started.

‘Yes. It keeps me busy, stops me getting bored.’

‘You’ve settled in quickly … most people walk on egg shells the first few weeks.’

‘I’m glad you think I’ve settled in. I still feel like I have a lot to learn.’ She laughed.

‘It’s rare people get jobs here without starting right at the bottom and working up … or without knowing someone.’

‘Knowing someone?’

Kitty hesitated briefly before saying, her voice dropping a little, ‘I’m just curious, but … I’ve been wanting to ask … they say Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith himself recommended you for the job.’

Juliana prickled and it must have been evident in her expression. Kitty offered a hasty retreat. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask, it’s just … do you know him well?’

‘Not at all.’

‘But you’ve worked with him before?’

‘For a short time.’

‘They say you travelled out west with him.’

‘Yes.’

Despite Juliana’s brief answers, Kitty couldn’t be deterred. She tried cautiously: ‘Weren’t you intimidated?’

‘Intimidated?’

‘He’s so … authoritative.’

Was he? She had thought so before, but no longer. ‘I didn’t think of it like that.’

Kitty’s mouth curled up into a smile. ‘You know we’re all just jealous of you.’

‘Jealous? Why?’

Kitty fiddled with her glass. ‘Well, you know, alone in a car with Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith. He is kinda … dreamy … don’t you think?’

 _Dreamy_. She nearly laughed aloud. She would perhaps have used that word to describe blue-eyed Jonny Muller in 10 th grade. She had a dim memory of her mother describing a silent movie star that way … someone called Valentino, she dimly recalled. But … John Smith? She stifled her bubbling derision by taking a long drink.

But then, if she stared ahead she pictured him in her mind’s eye, if she closed her eyes, she saw him … _yes, yes, yes_. She dreamt of him. Her dreams were him.

 _Dreamy_.

But, given the circumstances, Juliana gave a dismissive smirk. ‘I was just doing a job. You switch off from that sort of thing.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m being stupid. And he’s happily married, of course, I shouldn’t think of married men in that way. It’s very wrong of me to talk like this. You won’t say anything, will you?’

‘Of course not. Anyway … I haven’t seen him since working here, even if he recommended me for the job – which, I have to say, I have no idea about – he’s far too busy to give me a second thought.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s late. We’d better get back to work.’

They picked up their things and left the canteen. She liked Kitty. Juliana could pretend life was normal with her, that she was working in an office, joking with her colleagues, forming unlikely but genuine bonds that she would hardly continue, but would serve her well through the hours at work. She headed out, asking Kitty what her plans were for the weekend.

‘I’m going to the movies with my sister.’ Kitty carried on walking but turned to her, wide-eyed. ‘Look, promise you won’t mention to anyone that I was asking about the Oberst-Gruppenführer? It was impertinent of me.’

‘I promise, don’t worry.’ She put a hand on Kitty’s arm to reassure her. ‘Let’s just forget all about it. And like you say, this is a big place. We’re never going to see him anyway.’

They turned the corner towards the lift. Oberst-Gruppenführer John Smith was walking straight down the corridor towards them.

‘Oh!’ said Kitty, but no more. Words deserted her.

Juliana stared. He paced along, his uniform immaculate, his cap pulled tight on his head. Another man in uniform walked close beside him. He didn’t seem to have seen her yet. She would keep her head down; she would move to the side and avoid him.

She stepped to the left and Kitty moved instinctively with her. Her stomach churned – a mixture of dread at speaking to him and anticipated disappointment if he passed without noticing.

She thought he would walk on without seeing her; he was striding with such purpose. As he approached she inhaled, and there it was – the inimitable scent of him. She instinctively put a hand out to the wall.

And then he stopped.

‘Miss Mills.’

She turned warily.

For a time neither of them spoke. The man next to him looked curiously from Smith to Juliana. Kitty was almost clinging to her.

‘You’re working here now, of course. Welcome to GNR headquarters.’ Smith reached out a hand – no more than a polite gesture – and she shook it. _Warm_ _and_ _firm_. ‘All going well?’

‘Yes, thank you, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

‘Good. The accounts department, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Genten runs a tight ship. He’s a good man to work for.’

‘Yes.’

‘And … how are you?’

‘Fine, thank you.’

She made the mistake of meeting his eyes. Under his cap they were more brilliantly penetrating than ever. She tried to blink her treacherous reaction away.

Smith let his tongue dart over his lips – she noticed – then turned suddenly to the man beside her.

‘I don’t believe you’ve met my Sturmbannführer, Erich Raeder. Erich, this is Julia Mills.’

‘Oh, yes … Miss Mills.’ The younger man stepped forward and held out his hand. He was staring at her intently and with something beyond initial curiosity, but as he shook her hand his face softened into a broad smile. ‘A pleasure.’

‘Likewise,’ she said and smiled warmly, trying to dispel his doubts.

Juliana remembered herself and turned to Kitty. ‘This is Kitty Marshall, a colleague from the department.’

‘Miss Marshall.’ Smith looked her way, as did Raeder. They both shook her hand.

Kitty mumbled something incoherent and didn’t quite seem to know what to do with her arm once they released the handshakes.

‘Well,’ said Smith, turning vaguely away and looking around, thrusting his hands deep in his pockets as if he couldn’t trust them if they weren’t contained. ‘We should get on, Erich. It’s good to see you, Miss Mills.’

‘And you, sir.’ It was, she could only admit. It was so very, very good. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted to talk to him, to ask him things, to look at him, to listen to him and smell him and feel him. And he was instead turning and walking away from her.

She couldn’t move. Fortunately, neither could Kitty.

The younger woman gasped in as if she had been holding her breath. ‘Oh. My. God. Can you believe that? He touched me. He held my hand. The most important man in the whole goddamn country shook my hand. And – come on, you gotta admit – he is _gorgeous_! I’m not going to wash this hand again. Ever.’

Juliana at last tuned into the vapid gushing of her colleague. She managed a bleary smile and laughed it off. ‘Don’t be silly. He’s just a man, Kitty, like any other.’

With a wry look of disapproval, she managed to lead her friend back to their desks.

She reached into her inbox and focused on the documents before her, but it proved difficult. Juliana glanced down at her right hand which he had clasped and curled it into a tight fist.

_Just a man, like any other._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like any other ...  
> Yeah, right. 
> 
> Thanks for the fabulous interest and comments in this. It is continuing apace but bear with me as holidays are over and it's all work and no play a lot of the time. Soz. x


	18. Chapter 18

If Erich Raeder noticed that the Oberst-Gruppenführer was quiet on the way back to his office, he was too polite to comment. And he was certainly too trusting in the integrity of John Smith’s personal qualities to speculate on what may have made him quiet.

When they returned, Smith sat immediately at his desk and cleared his throat, determined to focus. ‘Have you been in touch with Berlin about the naturalisation of Americans emigrating to Germany, as discussed?’ he asked Raeder.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And?’

‘They require a detailed medical examination and assessment, including assimilation and examination in German culture.’

‘We expected no less, surely?’

‘No, sir.’

Smith spoke distractedly, cultivating an air of normality to hasten the departure of Raeder. ‘And how many detainees are we currently holding?’

‘Five, sir.’

‘Are you progressing with them?’

‘I hope so, sir.’

‘Are they the same five from a few weeks ago?’

‘Yes, sir.’

He grew terse. ‘I don’t want them cluttering up the cells if there’s no reason for them to be here, Erich. Either they are guilty, in which case you deal with them in the usual way, or they are innocent and you release them. I’m sure you can hasten the process. If a confession is needed, obtain it.’

Raeder straightened his back. ‘I’ll double my efforts, sir.’

‘I’m glad to hear it, Erich. In that case, that’ll be all. If I don’t see you later, have a good evening.’

‘Thank you, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’ Raeder turned for the door but hesitated and looked back. ‘Sir … do you mind me asking …?’

Smith glanced up wryly. ‘That depends on what you’re going to ask, Erich.’

The Sturmbannführer took a slight step forward but Smith noticed he didn’t meet his eyes. ‘Julia Mills …That was the first time I’ve met her.’

John swallowed. ‘And?’

‘She seems very pleasant.’

Heat rose from his very core. ‘Pleasant enough, yes.’

‘We’re still monitoring her, sir, but only at her apartment.’

He could feel his pulse quickening and steadied his breathing. ‘Has something come to your attention I should know about, Erich?’

‘Not at all, sir, she behaves with utmost propriety. She never has people over to visit or does much except read and eat and go to work. She seems to be a model citizen.’

‘So your point is?’

‘Should we discontinue surveillance on her apartment?’

Smith took a long drag on his cigarette and feigned studying the papers in front of him. ‘Not yet.’

Raeder nodded curtly but seemed unconvinced. ‘Very well, sir. If you think so.’ He hesitated before continuing. ‘She’s … very pretty … attractive.’

‘Is she?’ A resentment simmered towards the man still standing in his office.

‘Don’t you think?’

He refused to look up. ‘I haven’t noticed.’

‘Of course not. I’m sorry, sir.’

‘Like I said, that’ll be all, Erich.’

‘Good afternoon, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’ Raeder heiled and at last left him alone.

Smith sat back in his chair and released a deep sigh, held since the moment in the corridor earlier. He dragged both hands down over his face in an attempt to wipe out the sight of Juliana Crain, who had remained permanently fixed in his vision since encountering her.

If truth be told, he was surprised he had not seen her around the building before. He suspected she had been trying to avoid him; he knew he had been trying to avoid her. It was foolish of him to be in the corridors near the canteen, but he’d had some business to deal with nearby. He would send someone else there next time. Out of sight, out of mind, that was the principle. He had done his good deed, a nod to his conscience perhaps, but there need be nothing more.

The job had been easy enough to arrange. It had taken one phone call, the removal of one staff member, and Juliana was asked for interview the next day. He was a little surprised she had accepted; she’d seemed so adamantly opposed that night at his house. But this way he could tell himself that it was her decision and he could therefore absolve responsibility. But he knew also that she had been desperate for income. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, the line of her waist into her hips sharper than he remembered. He’d noticed the changes immediately; in his mind he ran his thumb over those cheekbones every day.

‘Fuck!’ he spat suddenly under his breath and glanced across at the family photograph on his desk. The broad, trusting smiles of his wife and children glared back at him. It had been taken six months ago, before the films had started to appear, when Hitler had been well, before he had ever even heard the name Juliana Crain.

How easy life had been then. Isn’t that what he’d always wanted? To provide an easy life for his family?

But nothing was easy now and he wasn’t sure he could ever return to it. He reached over and turned the photograph face down onto the desk.

He couldn’t bring himself to stop the surveillance on Juliana’s apartment. He had never once looked at the footage, although he’d considered doing so numerous times. He still had some resolve, after all. But he could not eliminate the option of it being there.

And there was the matter of trust. Not once on their road trip or since had she done anything to rouse suspicion. He sensed she no longer wanted the danger of working against the Reich. But was she truly one of them now?

He scoffed to himself and lit another cigarette. The notion of Juliana Crain accepting any hint of Nazi ideology was ludicrous, he knew that. She was a free spirit, and the system he had chosen to provide his security did not care for free spirits.  Above all else, she would do what was right for humanity.

But then, he thought what he was doing was right for humanity; he told himself that every day.

But now Juliana Crain, by her very existence, had introduced doubt into his mind, and for that reason alone she fascinated him. For that reason he had facilitated her ability to exist in a world where he might sometimes bump into her in the corridor.

He pulled on his cigarette again. That wasn’t the only reason; it wasn’t even the main reason. He would not be so weak as to pretend otherwise. He shifted in his seat now as he pictured her.

As soon as he had seen her in the hallway he was that teenager again, stomach flipping, mind reeling, cock stirring. He had considered ignoring her, but only briefly; it was too tempting not to speak, to look, to meet her eyes and feed on them, even for a brief moment.

His cock was stirring now, right here at his desk. That low, dull throb of desire, which hadn’t lessened for one instant since their first time together, stretched and screamed at him to indulge it. Eyes closed, he imagined himself marching from his office to the accounts department, pacing through, finding her alone. She would stand as he approached, she would move in front of her desk and he would take her there and then and she would take him, pull him in, enclose him, hold him, move on him as he moved in her.

Smith stubbed out his cigarette determinedly and reached for the paper he’d been staring at for the last few minutes. It required his signature. It was an order to eliminate a group of covert Semites in Virginia. His hand hovered, the pen held tightly. It was a routine order; he signed any number of them weekly. John Smith stared at it. He saw once more her face, the way she curled her hair around her ear, the trust implicit in all she did.

He put the document to one side. It would wait.

\--xoOox--

Eventually, he packed his bag and returned home. As he walked through the hallways to exit the building, he saw no sign of Juliana Crain.

The tension between him and Helen had dissipated somewhat in the last week or so, which was a relief, but save for routine kisses of greeting and farewell, intimacy was avoided – there was always an excuse: he was late, she was tired, the children clamoured for attention. Thomas still seemed to be well, and although the shadow of his illness lurked relentlessly in every corner of their lives, John could occasionally forget, not that he should, but it was one little relief in the mass of contradictory emotions which assaulted him.

\--xoOox--

A week after his encounter with Juliana in the hallway there was a regular scheduled meeting with the departmental managers.

These meetings took place in the Oberst-Gruppenführer’s office and would be the usual round of bureaucratic tedium with various suited and uniformed men reeling off figures while the assistant on the rota took notes, the most bored of all. The departmental assistants took turns to perform this task, one nameless, voiceless face after another.

The men began to arrive and Smith ushered them round the table as usual.

Genten, the Head of Accounts, walked in with a broad smile and came and shook Smith’s hand. He turned to the person behind him. It was Juliana Crain.

‘Oberst-Gruppenführer,’ began Genten, ‘it is apparently our department’s turn to take the minutes, so I have brought Miss Mills. She was very keen to give someone else the opportunity but I insisted. Your work is first rate, Miss Mills, and you know Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith, so … the obvious choice, don’t you agree, John?’

Smith sniffed out in shock. He thrust his hands in his pockets and looked distractedly around the room. ‘Yes, yes, of course, come in, everyone.’ Juliana concertedly kept her head down.

She was still trying to get out of it. ‘Really, I’ve only been here a short time, surely someone else should do this.’

Genten merely laughed. ‘Don’t be silly, Miss Mills, I want to show everyone what an asset you are to the Reich.’

Erich Raeder stepped up. ‘I concur, Miss Mills. You have just as much right to do this as anyone. Don’t you agree, Oberst-Gruppenfuhrer?’

Smith stood, affecting relaxation. ‘As long as Miss Mills is comfortable with it.’

‘I see no reason why she shouldn’t be … Miss Mills, please, take a seat.’ Genten pulled out a chair for her and Juliana sat, although her dismay was clear to John. She daren’t glance his way. He equally averted his eyes although she remained the focal point to him no matter how hard he pretended otherwise.

The meeting proceeded. It was rare that controversial matters were discussed, at least not overtly. Code was often employed, and, as clever as Juliana Crain was, John thought even she would struggle to discern anything incendiary from the tedious business of finance and Reich bureaucracy which dominated matters. She was seated opposite and slightly along from him. She kept her head down, seemingly intent on her shorthand, but every so often she would have to lift her eyes and couldn’t help but let them flit to his. She had a slight flush to her cheeks. She was not looking as gaunt as when he had seen her at his home. He was pleased to see her healthier. She wore a dark red dress with made him remember things he had no right to be remembering during a management meeting. In fact, he had no right to be remembering such matters at all. He realised he was staring at her and attempted not to. The discussion required little input from him, he was there to oversee as much as anything.

Erich Raeder was seated beside her. He would turn to her frequently and smile as if checking to see she was okay. At one point he poured her a glass of water. She thanked him but little else. Still, Smith wished his Sturmbannführer wasn’t sitting there.

Even out of the corner of his eye John Smith was acutely aware of every movement she made, every gesture and turn of her head: the way she tilted it a little to the side, how her tongue would dampen her lips from time to time (was it anxiety?), the way she shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Juliana Crain, in his office. She fitted, he realised. He glanced about – what would she make of it? The campaign memorabilia, the dark leather upholstery? Would she find it oppressive? He wasn’t sure if that thought pleased him or not.

As the meeting wore on and everyone became absorbed in the minutiae of the agenda, he felt that familiar easiness return once more. The smooth compatibility that they felt in each other’s company, even from a silent distance, settled again. She raised her eyes to his more frequently and now he revelled in returning her glances. Neither indulged them for too long for fear of prompting suspicion, but he found himself not wanting the meeting to end. Once again, it felt so very good.

But soon enough business was concluded. Everyone stood. Juliana gathered her things rapidly and looked as if she would hurry out, but just before she turned, she glanced up at him and something seemed to stop her. She slowed what she was doing and began looking through her documents again.

‘Did you get everything you needed, Miss Mills?’ inquired Genten.

‘I think so,’ she smiled to her boss. ‘I’ll write everything up by the end of the day.’

‘Oh, tomorrow will be fine. I can’t stay today in any case so will not be looking through until late tomorrow.’ He grinned in approval at her efforts then turned to catch up with a colleague and left in discussion with him.

The others dispersed quickly, talking and absorbed in business. Juliana, who had more paperwork to deal with than anyone else, was left behind.

‘Do you need anything else, Oberst-Gruppenführer?’ asked Erich.

‘No, no, that’s fine, you can go, Erich, thank you.’

Juliana was still sorting through her things. An oppressive weight had settled in him which made him struggle to draw breath.

‘Miss Mills, thank you for your time today. I hope we didn’t bore you too much,’ laughed Raeder, standing a little closer to her than John thought necessary.

She smiled back at him. ‘Not at all. It was a privilege to be asked.’

‘One meeting is much like another, it’s just the faces that change,’ continued Raeder.

Here, she looked over at John again.

It was only the three of them in the room. Erich Raeder seemed reluctant to leave.

Smith cleared his throat. ‘Erich, could you check on that call from Berlin for me? No need to report back, but I’d like everything to be set up for tomorrow.’

‘Of course, Oberst-Gruppenführer. Heil Hitler!’ He heiled forcefully, as if making a show of it for Juliana. She was distinctly unmoved. John returned it with rather less vigour. With a final glance at Juliana, Erich left the room.

Juliana had at last sorted the documents and, without a word or a look in his direction, turned to go.

He watched her. She was walking away and then she was at the door. The aching throb inside was so pronounced he had to brace himself with the tips of his fingers on the table. And he spoke.

‘Miss Mills … a moment of your time.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are a patient, patient lot. 
> 
> Hold tight. 
> 
> Thoughts? (I love writing John's POV.)  
> x


	19. Chapter 19

Juliana stopped in the doorway, her fingers on the handle.

Slowly, silently, she closed the door and looked back over her shoulder.

John Smith stood on the other side of the table, his hands still in his pockets, his eyes fixed on her. He didn’t move, he said nothing, but she noted the tell-tale rise and fall of his chest.

She took a few steps towards him, but stopped feet away. His uniform was dark against the paler wall behind, the glint from his lapels reflected in his eyes. The muscle in his jaw clenched, unclenched, clenched again in a rhythmic tattoo of confliction.

But it was decided, she knew that.

Juliana enjoyed denying herself for those brief moments, enjoyed letting the anticipation rise to such a peak that actual pain gleamed through her in a masochistic sheen.

‘Perhaps you should lock the door.’ In the silence, the sound of her own voice surprised her.

John averted his eyes and she could sense the workings of his mind, but he barely hesitated in crossing to his briefcase and taking out a key, then pacing past her as he went to turn it in the lock.

He moved back towards her but stopped short of coming too close, as if granting them both a final get out. She looked at him, tall, his form more imposing than ever. The insignia on his arm didn’t deter the gleaming need which threatened to burst screaming from her. Juliana cast her eyes over the black cloth with its metallic trim. She hated it. She hated more that he wore it so effortlessly beautifully.

‘I’m not used to the uniform,’ she said.

He barely shrugged. ‘This is who I am.’

‘Is it?’ Only then did she step in, close enough to touch. Only then did she place a hand on his jacket at his sternum and let it rise up to his shoulder, studying its progress. He let her, but she could feel the muscles coiled beneath, sense the heat and strength of him. She wanted him so much she swallowed back a sob. ‘Is it really?’ She asked as much of herself as of him.

He reached up suddenly and caught hold of her wrist. ‘Yes. You know it is.’

He held her hard, but she didn’t resist. Silence fell between them again until she murmured, ‘I can’t forget.’

‘I’ve tried,’ he muttered, almost spitting out the futility of his denial. ‘I’ve tried to.’ He still held her wrist firmly, his tense fingers coiled around her, drawing her in closer to him. Should she be ashamed that she wanted him to tighten his grip, wanted him to make her wince with the strength of it?

‘But,’ he continued, his breath coming fast, ‘I don’t want to forget.’

He looked into her and the sudden onslaught of desire made her dizzy.

‘Neither do I.’

They stood for a time longer in silence, him gripping her wrist, neither wanting to let go, both knowing the enormity of what it would mean to continue.

But it was too late.

‘Touch me again.’ It was all she could ask. At that moment, it was all she lived for.

And slowly, certainly, still holding her wrist in one hand, pulling her in against him, he reached his other hand under her skirt. She frowned in bewildered expectation. His hand again, there, searching, knowing. His fingers found the band of her underwear and he pushed down inside, down and under until he touched her.

She sucked in briefly but wanted to stifle any noise, didn’t want to disturb the perfection of it.

He studied her and she let him. There, right there again, he found her, and she was wet and ready. _He knew, oh, he_ _knew_. He knew exactly who she was and how to draw her out. And she stood there in his office and let him.

He worked slowly, denying himself entirely, and she knew he would be rock hard. But John Smith remained implacable and steady. His forefinger and middle finger slid down through her wet heat and pushed up inside her. This time her cry could not be prevented, but it was short and harsh, reflecting the perfect shock of having something of him within her again.

‘That,’ she muttered, barely discernible.

He pushed up harder in response, angling his fingers to penetrate her so deeply he had to give at the knees and grunt with concentration. He kept them inside her as if trying to fuse her to him, and she ground onto him to abet it. But eventually he let his fingers slide slick from her and moved them instead to concentrate on her clit.

She fed on the irrepressible complexity in his green eyes while he worked pleasure from her, new yet familiar, surprising yet expected. It mustn’t take long, this first time; it couldn’t.

He stroked and pressed and rubbed and she came quite suddenly. Her climax took Juliana by surprise and she gasped as if in pain, shocked by the force of it. Throwing up a hand, she clung to the black of his uniform as ecstasy shook through her. It was long and strong. Her cry turned to a moan and her brows creased in abandon.

While she stood in recovery, John kept his fingers on her. He seemed to mirror her bewilderment as he let go of her wrist at last and instead curled his hand through her hair, pulling her close to him, both holding the other as if they would vanish otherwise. He murmured, ‘I missed that so fucking much – what you sound like coming, what you look like and feel like when you come.’

And he kissed her. He kissed her so beautifully tears formed behind her closed lids. His hand at length moved from her sex only to cup her face tenderly to continue kissing her.

‘Need you inside me,’ she hummed against his mouth. ‘Now, please, _please_ , _now_.’

And her desperation fed into his. She wriggled free of her underwear as his hands slid down over her body, his palms running hard along the curve of her waist with reminiscing appreciation. As he reached her backside she couldn’t help but jump up into his grip, curling her legs around him and leaning in to kiss him again. He turned with her wrapped around him, and carried her with staggering urgency to his desk. She fell back against it. Papers were crushed, objects fell to the floor, but neither realised nor cared.

He was between her legs and undoing his fly. Glancing down she saw him again, hard and thick as she remembered. She bent her legs up to welcome him and he took hold of her knees, pushing back and opening her further. Juliana stretched her arms above her on the desk, as if reaching for a yet untapped deliverance.

He was inside her in the next instant. She grunted with the force of it, tried to sit up but didn’t, tried to exclaim but couldn’t. Her back buckled as he drove into her and she pushed herself onto him.

She managed to lift her head. He stood, as deeply embedded within her as he could be, his breath harsh and full.

‘Again,’ she mouthed, barely audibly. He pulled out, took hold of her hips, and thrust back in to the hilt. ‘Oh God, yes, that!’

He drew out slowly only to push back in hard. ‘What?’ he rasped. ‘ _What_?’

‘You, you. I need it, I need it, I need it.’ She wanted to feel as much of him as she could, so she pushed herself up onto her elbows, prompting his cock to be angled high inside her. Juliana threw her head back with the sudden surge of pleasure and grappled for purchase on his sleeve to steady herself. ‘That’s right, right there, right there. Oh fuck, you know, you know!’

He picked up his pace, driving into her with brutal force, too much but not enough. She moaned for more as the strength of his fucking rocked her body back and forth along his desk. Leaning over her, not slowing, he grunted, ‘Do I? Do I really know you?’ as he picked up his pace, ploughing in and out of her with furious determination.

She didn’t answer but still clung to his arm with one hand, propping herself up on an elbow so she could watch it happening: the taking of his cock into her body, his insistence and her demanding acquiescence. She needed that: to hear it, feel it and see it. By this, they would know each other.

There was an imperative to their coupling, a need to climax quickly, but at the same time it was, as it had always been, the greatest sin to finish it. So an unspoken understanding passed between them and they slowed. Reaching under her waist, gathering her to him, he pulling her up to rest flush against him. She sat on the edge of his desk and curled her arms and legs about him, blending her body into his. He pushed himself as deep inside her as he could and together they rocked, gently now. She threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him, a slow, tongue-wet, breath-hot kiss. All the while he was in her, cock-deep and full.

‘Stay,’ she whispered into him.

He ground his hips into her and she tightened herself around his cock. ‘Stay,’ she repeated. He did it again and he kissed her again. Every thrust of his cock meant a drag over her clit. She pulled back and let him see her frown of pleasure, let him hear her whine of rising ecstasy.

‘Like that?’ he asked, splaying his hands on her and pulling her as tightly onto him as he could.

‘Uh huh,’ she muttered, biting her lip and giving a lazy nod. ‘Like that, always like that. Fuck me … fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, John …’

They couldn’t last forever. With a groan, she let herself fall back onto the desk again. Still he moved with exacting conviction, almost lazily, watching as he drew out then pushed back in, studying his cock being swallowed back into her body time and again. ‘We can’t stop, you can’t stop,’ she said.

He moaned out his assent. ‘I won’t, I can’t. But I have to come in you. Fuck, I want to come in you now.’

She worked herself hard on him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He would come hard, she knew; he had held back long enough and now he was lost. His eyes, which had held hers for most of their coupling, glazed and fixed somewhere beyond her, unseeing. John didn’t stop moving – he couldn’t – but his jaw slackened and he let out a sound of complete release. As he burst into her, his hands clenched on her hips so she’d later bruise, his cock rammed its way so hard that it hurt but didn’t. With that she let her own climax take her. Her orgasm gripped his cock as the last of his come stuttered from him. At that moment, Juliana knew him and knew herself. Whether she still would afterwards, she didn’t stop to consider.

The air hummed, thick and heavy. There was no sound save for their recovering breaths.

Eventually, he held out a hand to her. She took it and allowed him to pull her upright. Immediately, they were kissing again.

‘This is crazy,’ she said at length, but didn’t try to stop.

‘Sh. Don’t say anything.’ He was back to kissing her.

When they finally moved apart, it was with supreme reluctance. At the moment when he slipped from her, she had to stifle a moan. He tucked himself away. Apart from her underwear, which lay limply on the floor, they had both remained fully clothed the whole time.

‘I’ll stop the surveillance on your apartment,’ he commented quite factually.

‘Is that a wise move, Oberst-Gruppenführer?’ she teased.

‘I’ll stop it … because I’ll be there.’

‘When?’ She couldn’t keep herself from him. Her arms snaked their way around his neck again and again they kissed.

‘Soon,’ he said against her lips.

She stared up at him, trying to feel her resistance, trying to remember who he was, as if by clinging onto the SS uniform it would help bring her to her senses, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. She spoke the truth. ‘I can’t not do this.’

‘No.’ He was gravely serious and the magnitude of their compulsion made them part at last.

She picked up her panties and stepped back into them before at last gathering the documents she’d sorted so carefully and crossing to the door. She turned the handle. It wouldn’t open. Juliana looked back with a rueful smirk. ‘You locked it. I can’t get out.’

He sniffed out a smile and came over with the key. He turned it in the lock and opened the door a small amount for her.

She smiled gently up at him. ‘Good bye, John.’

‘Good bye, Juliana.’

Checking there was no one outside, she pulled the door open wider, but before she could leave, he had pulled her back to him again and was kissing her.

Breathless, she kissed back and wondered if she could ever stop.

At last, resting his forehead on hers, he murmured, ‘You should go.’

‘I should.’

Another kiss.

‘I must –‘ she tried but was cut off by his mouth on hers.

‘Yes, you must,’ he muttered before she pulled him back for more.

‘OK, I’m really going now,’ she said again, although she kept her mouth a mere breath from his.

He grinned against her lips. ‘You really are.’

‘Uh huh,’ she sighed, smiling into his kiss.

‘Uh huh,’ he mimicked.

She dragged herself from his hold and backed away. ‘Really.’

‘Really.’ He forced his hands into his pockets to prevent himself reaching for her again.

‘Good bye … again.’

‘Good bye … for now.’

She walked backwards, smiling at him until he at last closed the door between them.

\--xoOox--

When Juliana returned to her office, she hoped her post-coital glow was not too obvious.

‘How was the meeting?’ asked Kitty. ‘Those department meetings are usually boring as hell.’

‘It was okay.’

‘Was he there?’

‘Who?’

‘Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith, of course,’ scoffed Kitty.

‘Uh-huh.’ Juliana reached for some papers and affected reading them.

Kitty’s face lit up. ‘Did he speak to you?’

She glanced up as if it was distracting. ‘I was really too busy taking notes.’

‘Shame. Those meetings are so damn dull. Taking the minutes can be kind of relentless.’

‘Yes, it was. No time for anything else.’

‘Well, at least you got to be in his presence for, like, a whole hour. I would’ve died if that’d been me.’

She gave her a smirk. ‘You need to find yourself a boyfriend, Kitty. Now, back to work.’

Juliana swept back into her office and sat at her desk. She pulled the chair in and sat bolt upright, determined to concentrate. But her body was still tingling, her sex warm from their coupling. Letting her head fall into her hands, she threaded her fingers through her hair. Images and feelings coursed through her mind of what they’d just done. Immediately, her core twisted in longing again. She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to shut it out.

_She had not come back for that, she had not._

But now that she had it, she wasn’t sure she could do without.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You see? Good things come to those who wait. And plenty more to come, trust me.
> 
> I know you go quiet when the smut gets heavy, but be brave. I love your comments. x


	20. Chapter 20

He had the good sense to visit the restroom before returning home, washing his face and hands carefully to erase any lingering scent of her, inspecting his uniform for any stray brunette hairs. When he found one, he didn’t immediately let it fall but twirled it briefly around his finger until it grew too tight.

It was only at this point that a wash of guilt caught him. He studied himself in the mirror. Home was the one place he didn’t have to wear a mask, but he knew that when he walked in tonight, he would adopt the guise of faithful husband deceitfully.

He returned home at dinner time. By the time he turned the key in the lock and opened the door, he had reconciled the conflict of emotion in his mind. He was good at this after all: deception. It was merely an addendum to how he lived other aspects of his life.

‘Hey, everyone, back at last!’

‘Daddy!’ Amy came bundling down the stairs into his arms. He clung to her tightly.

John glanced up to see his wife emerging from the kitchen. ‘You made it for dinner. I wasn’t sure you would.’

She was smiling warmly and came over to kiss him in greeting. It was almost with pride that he returned it: his treachery was effective, at least.

‘Someone said it was meat loaf tonight, so how could I possibly miss that?’ He rubbed his wife’s arm, smoother than ever.

‘Hello, Father, how was work?’

He turned to see Thomas. A sharp dart dashed through him, but he ignored it. ‘Good, good. Busy as always. How was your day, Thomas?’

‘Interesting. We did an experiment in chemistry that nearly burnt a hole in Mr Bulmore’s desk but we did just about manage not to set the whole school alight.’

He grinned at his son. ‘Sounds fun. Not your fault, I hope.’

‘No, entirely Mr Bulmore’s.’

John glanced down at his son’s knees. He had a deep red graze across one.

‘What happened there?’

‘Oh … I caught my foot on the sidewalk on the way home, took a tumble.’

‘You caught your foot?’

Thomas licked his lips distractedly. ‘Uh huh.’

Juliana was forgotten, adultery was forgotten. The dart in his stomach shifted to a throbbing, burning pain which made him dizzy. This could not be forgotten: Thomas was sick. He placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Be careful, son. Watch where you’re going. You sure you’re okay?’

‘I’m fine, Father.’

‘You tell me if anything happens, promise me. You tell me immediately.’

‘Of course.’ He noted the lurch of his son’s neck as he swallowed. ‘I caught my toe, that’s all. There was a cracked paving slab.’

Helen appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. ‘Dinner’s ready, come along.’

Conversation over dinner was natural and easy and he relaxed into the normality of it again. At one point his wife reached over and patted him on the wrist and he looked down at her hand, remembering another woman’s hand on him earlier in the day.

What was she doing now? He pictured her in her apartment, alone probably. Lonely? Part of him hoped she was, that she would be longing for him, part of him admired that Juliana Crain most likely coped with solitude confidently.

But as he later put on his pajamas and kissed his wife briefly on the cheek goodnight – he had told her he was very tired, she didn’t dispute it – and turned over in bed, he wondered about her in her bed. Was she sleeping curled on her side as he knew she did, resting her head on one palm? He closed his eyes and saw her, her eyes closed, her lips parted to draw in slight hushing breaths. It was easy enough to remember the smell of her, that scent which had wrapped its way around him earlier as she had wrapped her limbs about him.

He pictured again staggering with her heavy light in his arms over to his desk; he saw again himself moving in her; he felt it.

He grew hard quickly and when he heard the tell-tale regularity of his wife’s breath as she drifted into sleep, he let his hand drop to his cock and encircle it. He wanted that release, and in his mind Juliana opened her eyes beside him in bed and smiled that soft, shy smile. It was her hand wrapped about him, her attention and devotion and brilliant, brilliant beauty drawing his pleasure out.

He pumped harder, lying there in the quiet of his bedroom. But then his wife stirred and turned over. She placed a hand on his side and he could feel her breath falling against his neck.

His hand fell away and soon his erection subsided. At length, he drifted to sleep. Still, the next day, he could not say he slept well.

\--xoOox--

When John Smith arrived at work the day after the encounter with Juliana Crain in his office, he considered visiting the accounts department. He would need to touch base with Genten after all, ensure that all was in order after the previous day’s meeting. He was just about to turn into the corridor which would take him there when Erich Raeder caught up with him.

‘Oberst-Gruppenführer! Good morning!’

He swallowed back the brief surge of frustration and was instead grateful that his Sturmbannführer had set him back on track. ‘Erich, hello. How are things today?’

‘Some interesting developments, sir.’

‘Oh?’

‘We have reason to believe that Resistance operatives have infiltrated the city again.’

‘Related to that previous cell?’

‘Possibly not.’

He stopped and turned to Erich. ‘Go on.’

‘We have reports of coded messages being intercepted. We haven’t yet been able to decode fully but our people are working on it.’

‘Do you have the location of the message source?’

‘Not yet, sir. It’s untargetable at the moment.’

Berlin would not want to hear of this. ‘Would you say there are many of them?’

‘No. It seems to be only a handful at most.’

‘Good work. Keep on it.’

They reached Smith’s office. Erich gathered paperwork for John and brought it in.

‘The meeting went well yesterday, I thought,’ he said.

Smith sighed and pulled in his chair. ‘As well as these things ever go. Routine departmental meetings are never going to set the world alight, but needs do as needs must.’

‘I have the minutes here, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

He handed over a document. Smith scanned it – it would have been typed up by Juliana. She had done so impeccably. His mouth ticked at the corner, daring him to smile. Their activities had clearly not been a hindrance to her work.

‘Thank you, Erich, I’ll look over it and sign it off.’

‘Julia Mills did a good job, don’t you think?’

He kept his head down. ‘She would appear to have.’

‘She seems very competent, very bright.’

‘She wouldn’t be working here if she wasn’t.’

‘Do you know if … umm …’ Raeder started.

Smith looked up slowly. He was not enjoying this. ‘What?’

‘Do you know if she’s spoken for, sir?’

‘What do you mean, spoken for?’

‘Does she have a sweetheart?’

He almost laughed aloud at Raeder’s expression. ‘A _sweetheart_?’

‘A boyfriend?’

He dropped his head again. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘Did she ever mention anyone? On your trip?’

John could feel the muscle in his jaw clenching so hard it almost hurt. ‘No.’

‘I admire her very much.’

‘I see.’

‘Would you … umm … would you have any objection if I were to … ask her on a date?’

Smith darted his head up. ‘Me? Why are you asking me?’ He reached for a cigarette hastily in order to calm himself. His loyalty to Erich Raeder was being severely tested. His fingers practically tore at the packet to get one out. He lit it quickly and took a long drag on it. The quick infusion of nicotine brought him some relief from the resentment threatening to engulf him.

‘It’s just that … some people object to relationships between employees.’

‘They do.’

His mind was a whirl and he sucked long on the cigarette to try to provide some clarity. Should he shut him down now? Deny him as he so longed to do? But surely that could evoke suspicion. There was no rational reason why he should object to this.

‘Which is why I’m asking you,’ added Erich, his nerves obvious.

He managed a shrug of feigned disinterest. ‘Do what you want, Erich.’

Erich smiled warmly. ‘Thank you, sir. I find her … very pleasant.’

John had found her very pleasant yesterday when he’d sunk his cock into her right here on his desk. He tapped his fingers right on the spot where she’d flung her head back and moaned.

He smirked. ‘There we are then, Erich.’

‘In that case, I may well see if I can pluck up the courage.’

‘Pluck up the courage? You’re an SS Sturmbannführer, Erich, and you still need to pluck up courage?’ He finished with a cynical chuckle. It wasn’t necessary or nice and he would never have previously spoken to Raeder like it. Still, it briefly eased the bitter annoyance which had worked inside him since the start of the conversation.

Erich swallowed and a slight flush caught his cheeks. He averted his eyes and stepped back. ‘No, of course not, but … I should get on, sir, thank you for your help.’ He heiled.

Smith returned it but then lowered his head to stare at the minutes Juliana Crain had typed up. Erich Raeder was regarded as one of the most decent, genuine men around, and handsome too, he knew. Would Juliana think that?

He took a pull on the cigarette. Maybe Erich wouldn’t have the courage after all. In any case, he didn’t know her. John knew her.

He cast his eyes over his desk. Things were still unordered from yesterday. The photo of his family was still face down. He didn’t pick it up.

Again, he ran his hands over where she had lain. Closing his eyes, he pictured her, heard her moans of pleasure, felt her body encasing him.

John reached quickly for his phone and dialled a number. A voice at the end soon answered and he spoke directly.

‘This is Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith. The surveillance on Poplar Avenue Heights … I want you to turn if off on Apartment 17b … The inhabitant is no longer under suspicion and is regarded as a valid and proven citizen of the Reich. Turn off all audio and visual recording on that apartment with immediate effect. I will later today be personally ensuring this is done. Thank you.’

He listened briefly for the corroboration from the end of the line but instead of replacing the receiver he simply pressed his finger down on the plunger. He waited, took a breath then released it and dialled again.

It rang several times. He almost hung up before the person at the other end answered, but he didn’t.

‘Hello?’

‘Helen, it’s me. Look … something’s come up here. It needs to be sorted.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’m not gonna make it home tonight, honey.’ He wished he hadn’t called her that. Guilt twisted in him as he heard it out loud.

‘I’d asked Bob and Sheila around, I thought you knew that.’

‘I’m sorry. Send my apologies. Berlin’s asked for something and it needs to be done. I’ll stay in the office overnight.’

She sighed tersely down the line. ‘I may try to delay them. It’s awkward, John, to say the least. Couldn’t you have given me more warning?’

‘I’m sorry, you know what it’s like.’

‘I guess it’s what comes from your promotion.’ She said it bitterly rather than resignedly.

‘I guess so. I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow. Tuck the kids in for me.’

‘Perhaps you can call later to say goodnight.’

He ran a hand over his brow as the stab of guilt did its work viciously. ‘Sure. Of course I will.’

There was the slightest pause.

‘Good bye then, John.’

‘Bye, Helen.’

He put down the receiver at last and dragged his hands down his face. John glanced at the clock. 10 am. It would be a long day, but he would resist going near the accounts department. He knew how beneficial anticipation could be, especially with regard to Juliana Crain.

\--xoOox--

Work went well. There was no need to stay overnight. Berlin had not called, but he did not call Helen and amend what he’d said earlier.

In the late afternoon he made his way down to the surveillance rooms. The young man on duty – a boy of no more than 18, he thought – jumped up in shock and heiled forcefully.

‘At ease. I’ve just come to check that my orders from earlier have been fulfilled. Was it you who took my call?’

‘Yes, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

‘And you’ve carried out my request?’

‘I did so immediately, sir.’

‘Good.’ He took measured paces closer to the array of screens before the young man. The boy averted his eyes and swallowed nervously as the Oberst-Gruppenführer approached. He was little different to the person who’d monitored here before. But that man, of course, was no longer around.

‘Can I check?’ He turned to the boy and cocked an eyebrow.

‘Yes, sir, of course, sir.’ The boy stepped back. Even in the dim light, Smith could see the perspiration beaded on his brow. He, presumably, knew that his predecessor had been found floating in the Hudson River one Sunday morning a few months back. No full explanation had ever been provided for his death.

Smith scanned the monitors.

The boy stepped up. ‘These on the right show the apartments of Poplar Avenue Heights, sir. As per your orders I’ve stopped those on 17b.’

‘Good. And the surveillance in the corridors?’

‘Those are still on, sir, as we monitor comings and goings in other apartments too.’

‘I see.’ He stood for a time. ‘I don’t think that’s necessary.’

‘Sir?’ The young man was surprised.

‘Turn off all surveillance unless it’s in specific apartments we wish to be observed. Nobody in those apartments has caused us any trouble for some time. I think relaxing our scrutiny may be of benefit.’

‘But …’

He turned to the boy and for a time said nothing, but simply looked at him. The man’s Adam’s apple jerked along the line of his neck. ‘Turn them off, I said.’

‘Very well.’

‘Oberst-Gruppenführer.’ Smith corrected.

The young man blinked away his terror and repeated, ‘Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

‘Do so now.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The man turned, his breath hurried, and flipped some switches quickly. Various screens went blank.

‘Thank you. You serve the Reich well. The next time I see the Reich’s Fuhrer, I’ll mention your good work … your name?’

‘Obersoldat Gerhardt Donninger, Oberst-Gruppenführer!’ He heiled.

‘Thank you, Obersoldat Donninger. As you know, this is highly sensitive work. There’s no need to mention any of this to a single person. I’m sure you appreciate that.’ He stared hard into him, unflinchingly and without a flicker of empathy.

The soldier flinched and the nostrils of his nose flared as he inhaled desperately. ‘Yes, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

‘Good. Good bye then, Obersoldat.’

Smith barely heard the muttered heil as he paced out.

\--xoOox--

Smith continued working until 7pm, waiting until he was sure Erich and anyone else who could note his time of departure had left.

At that time, he made his way to the parking lot and got into his own car. He waited before starting the engine, allowing himself regret and a change of mind.

It didn’t come.

So he turned the key in the ignition and set off for Poplar Avenue.

He parked around the back in a side street, and ensured no one was around when he got out. Quickly, he hurried up the steps and in. No one saw him arrive. Nobody would.

He soon found himself outside 17b. He had been here before. That time he had wanted information, and his sudden appearance, he knew, was enough to send a curl of fear through the woman in the apartment. This time would be different. This time, they both wanted the same thing.

He could hear the television from inside. He could hear the occasional pad of footsteps. He took a deep breath and allowed himself a moment for the tension inside to settle.

Then he raised his hand and knocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all just too, too easy, isn't it, John?
> 
> (But we love it when you're bad.)
> 
> Thoughts, as usual, are hugged tight. xx


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely NSFW. Definitely.  
> Hold tight. x

Juliana knew it would be him before she opened the door, but the power had not gone off this time.

She opened it cautiously, as if habit demanded it, and there he was in the corridor, much the same as he had been before: hands clasped before him, uniform dark and imposing. But this time he didn’t have that assessing look of inquisition on his face. When her stomach upended itself this time, it was not due to fear. Still, she could not deny the twisting anxiety that took hold, not at what he would do to her, but at what she might do to herself.

She didn’t speak or move and neither did he. They just looked at each other, both aware of the wrongness of it, the mistake of what they could not stop.

He glanced briefly over her shoulder, trying to see into the room.

‘Are you alone?’

‘Of course.’ _Why should she not be?_

She glanced up at the light fitting which she knew contained a camera.

‘There’s no surveillance,’ he said. ‘I ensured it was off earlier today.’

She let her eyes fall to his again. He held her gaze so steadily but it no longer intimidated nor unnerved her. She had known him too well for that. And it felt so very good when he did it.

So Juliana pulled the door open and stepped aside for him. With the same measured paces he always took, John Smith walked into her apartment. She shut the door behind them, the click of the latch resonating through the space.

Juliana followed him in. He stood, not awkwardly – that could never be – but a little tense nonetheless. She quite enjoyed it, enjoyed that she had unsettled this otherwise impenetrable man.

‘How long can you –?’ she started.

‘As long as I want.’ He hurriedly interrupted then dropped his head and corrected himself. ‘As long as you want.’

There was a fizzing noise and a smell of burning from the kitchen. She turned to it in annoyance. ‘Shit! I was making some grilled cheese. I forgot.’

She hurried in and pulled the scorched sandwich from under the broiler. He came over and stood in the doorway. ‘Need a hand?’

‘No … just … this was my supper.’ She indicated the charred remains and opened a window to let the smoke out.

‘I’m sorry. I distracted you.’

She glanced wryly at him over her shoulder and gave a smirk. ‘You’re good at that.’

‘Can you make more?’

‘Sure.’ She turned to him with a curious smile. ‘Do you want some?’ He smiled back. It felt good. As much as anything else they might do, his smile felt good. It felt _nice_.

‘Why not?’ he shrugged.

She set about taking out the bread and cheese and starting again. He watched her carefully. ‘Grilled cheese … I haven’t had that since I was a kid.’

‘Seriously?’ She turned to him in surprise. ‘I would barely eat if it wasn’t for grilled cheese sandwiches.’

He sniffed. ‘Our meals tend to be more … premeditated.’

‘Every night?’

‘Pretty much … when I’m there.’

‘Well, you’re not there tonight.’ She said it a little too flippantly and a blush spread to her cheeks, but a glance at him saw his mouth curl into a smile.

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Something to drink?’ she offered, opening a cupboard. There was a bottle of red wine she’d been saving. Why not? ‘Wine?’

He nodded.

She poured two glasses and turned and offered him one. He hesitated briefly, as if refusing it, and then with sudden but perfect fluidity pulled her against him. He didn’t kiss her at first, and she felt the confusion in him as his chest pressed regularly in and out against her. He brought his forehead down to rest against hers but didn’t meet her eyes.

‘It’s alright,’ she murmured. ‘We don’t have to –‘

But her sentence was snatched away by his lips on hers. He held her tight by the waist; she could feel each of his fingers digging in as if wanting to grip onto her forever; and she loved it.

She’d lied. They did have to.

They kissed hard, inexorably, there in her little kitchen while she stood held by him but askew, hands uselessly gripping two wine glasses.

When he at last broke away she teased him. ‘Don’t ruin my sandwiches again.’ It broke the oppressive need hanging between them. They were both grateful for it.

John stepped back and she quickly pulled them from under the broiler. ‘They’re fine, done.’ Juliana put them on plates, and handed them to him. ‘Go sit down. I’ll bring your wine.’ He looked briefly askance at the rectangular blob on his plate. ‘Don’t worry,’ she laughed. ‘I have cutlery if you want.’

He smiled back and went into the living room. Juliana joined him and sat, taking a long drink of wine. John did the same. She watched as he somewhat tentatively cut the sandwich and ate his first bite.

‘Is it good?’ she asked.

He nodded with genuine appreciation. ‘Very. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ But she couldn’t stifle a giggle.

‘What?’

‘You really don’t need a knife and fork.’

She demonstrated by picking up her own sandwich and taking a bite in front of him.

He looked mildly embarrassed and smirked out a laugh before following suit and putting down his cutlery. He picked up the sandwich. ‘It’s been a while, Miss Crain, I’ll have you know. Like this?’ he queried, his eyes bright with amusement.

‘Like that,’ she smiled. He bit down. It was hopelessly endearing and more than a little alluring.

They ate on for a while in silence before she continued with a slight laugh. ‘This is strange.’

He glanced up. ‘Is it? We’ve eaten together before.’

‘Yes, but … not here, not in New York.’

He stared at her over the rim of his glass as he took another drink, his eyes almost intrusive; she didn’t mind. Her hunger for food was dissipating, to be replaced by another hunger altogether. But then she caught a glimpse of the black-on-white insignia on the red band around his arm.

‘You must be warm. Why don’t you take your jacket off?’ she asked.

He was staring at her again, she could tell, although she didn’t humour him this time by meeting his gaze.

‘Is that what you’d like?’

Now she did look up. She held his eyes resolutely and stated, ‘Yes.’

John took another drink from his glass before slowly putting it down, then his hands moved to his belt and then his buttons and he shrugged the jacket from his shoulders, placing it over the back of the chair. Underneath he wore a white shirt with black suspenders slung confidently over his shoulders. She felt her mouth tug up and her belly surge.

‘Better?’ he inquired.

‘Much.’

They finished their food largely in silence, but it was the softest silence Juliana could remember. Contentment pervaded the room and enclosed them both, as it had since the early days of their trip together.

‘More?’ she offered, holding out the bottle. He nodded in acceptance and she enjoyed the sound of the liquid as it was poured from the bottle. John again took a long drink while studying her all the while.

She smiled in embarrassment and curled her hair out of her face. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’

‘Do what?’

‘Look at me like that.’

‘I can’t help it. You seem to compel me to look at you. But I could equally say … I wish _you_ wouldn’t do _that_.’

‘What?’

He reached over and repeated her action himself with another stray lock of hair. ‘Curl your hair around your ear like that. It captivates me.’

‘Captivates?’ she whispered, blushing.

‘You know it does.’

‘I don’t do it deliberately.’

‘Don’t you?’

She looked up, the teasing gone. ‘No, John, I don’t.’

He smiled softly, holding her in his stare again. ‘And that’s why it’s captivating.’

She let that comfortable stillness take hold for a while longer, almost proud of it, before saying, ‘It was good, wasn’t it?’

‘What?’

‘The trip out west.’

‘Yes.’

‘This is good too.’ She drew in a breath and took a drink. ‘Too good, maybe.’

He shrugged and straightened himself. ‘You were the one who came back.’

‘You were the one who gave me a job,’ she countered.

He sighed deeply and leant forward, threading his fingers together and pressing the knuckles to his mouth, a sudden seriousness taking hold. She humoured it, waiting for his explanation. It came soon enough. ‘I found a graze on Thomas’ knee.’

‘When?’

‘Yesterday. He said he tripped on a broken paving slab.’

‘Perhaps he did. John, he might have.’

He looked across at her starkly. ‘He’s still sick, Juliana. It’s not going away. It’s going to get worse. I can’t do anything here. I can’t take him to a doctor, I can’t heal him, I can’t hide him. I’m supposed to be the most powerful man in the Greater Nazi Reich and I’m fucking impotent when it comes to my own son.’

Her heart quickened in dismay and she spoke with utter transparency. ‘You need to get him out. What else can you do?’

John’s eyes glazed and misted and she reached over for him, but he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t respond. ‘I know. I planned to before. He’d go to South America and then we’d stage a kidnapping, but in reality he’d be taken away to live with a family.’

‘That would work,’ she tried optimistically.

‘But I’d never see him again.’ He stood suddenly and pushed his hands deep into his pockets, turning his back on her. He was struggling. Instinctively, Juliana rushed over and pressed herself to his back, curling her hands around him and holding him tight to her, trying to impart some hope or reassurance or anything she could. His head fell back and she was aware of the firm, muscled body under her fingertips, warm and hard and utterly human.

She clung to him and her hands moved up his chest, sensually now, deliberately so. His head hung slack and he let her. She brought her mouth to his back and breathed onto it, pressing her lips to him even against the shirt.

And then he turned in her arms and looked down at her. Her hands were still on him, poised, expectant.

‘Juliana …’ he murmured, searching her eyes. ‘Why you? Why is it always you?’ He brought up a hand and held her face, rubbing a thumb over her cheek. ‘I can’t stop wanting you. I can’t stop needing you.’

‘We don’t have to do this,’ she replied, repeating the lie from before, but she was leaning into him, dampening her lips, urging her hips towards him.

‘Yes, we do,’ he breathed and kissed her.

Their clothes were shed as she moved with him into the bedroom, but it was not with the frantic haste of yesterday, for it was too sweet to rush this time. But their need was as great and they wouldn’t stop.

She pushed his suspenders from his shoulders and ran her hands up his shirt before drawing him down to kiss while undoing one button then another and another. He in turn rid her of skirt and stockings and blouse.

Soon she was naked and he was left only in his open shirt. By now they had reached the bed, guided by instinct alone, and he fell back upon it. Without thinking, Juliana crawled up and straddled him, leaning over and kissing him with a deliberate voluptuousness. Reaching down, she took him in her hand, quickly plying him to full hardness. He moaned into her mouth and reached up to hold her to him.

Juliana dampened her hand and continued, revelling in the solidness of him enclosed in her palm. His neck strained as he hissed. She didn’t stop, her deliberate provocation was intoxicating them both.

‘Fuck, you know me,’ he said, sharp, pointed words which could almost be interpreted as resentment. But when he reached up for her kiss, when his fingers tangled in her hair, she cast it aside.

‘You like that?’ she whispered against his lips, all the while keeping up her rhythmic strokes.

‘So much. Too much. Want to be inside you,’ he muttered, his breath increasingly ragged. ‘Are you ready?’

He had his answer when he reached between her legs and stroked along her with a single finger. She sucked in sharply as it slid through easily and grazed her clit. She’d been wet from the moment he sat at her table in his white shirt and black suspenders.

‘I’m ready.’

He kept stroking her a while longer then guided his cock to her opening.

‘Like this?’ she asked, half expecting him to flip her over and take her from behind.

‘Yes,’ he slurred, holding her hips as she straddled him, ‘like this.’

She knelt up, bracing her hands on his chest, then slowly, only partly guided by him, lowered herself, letting him rise into her inch by inch.

John stared down at where he was being taken into her body, swallowing hard as she gripped him tight. Juliana felt him rise as deep as he could before leaning down and kissing him again, as slowly as she’d engulfed him, enjoying the reversal of roles. This time, she would dictate the pace and he would love it.

She rolled and rocked on him, all the while bent down to kiss him. His cock was angled high inside her and the stretching fullness made her nearly delirious. His hands gripped her hips, more from appreciation than guidance. He was just as lost as she was.

With a gasp of effort, Juliana pushed herself to sit upright and clenched tight, working him hard inside.

‘Jesus!’ His head was back and his eyes closed. A rush of power caught her and she slowed for a time, wanting to restrict his pleasure, keep it at her pace.

Juliana started a languid rise and fall, enjoying every inch of cock as she moved on him. At times she would bend close, eyes shut, mouth open, concentrating on the perfection of it, at others she would lean back so that his cock nudged that place deep inside her, brewing and stirring pleasure so perfectly … all hers.

When she leant forwards, he would reach for her breasts, gently holding them, squeezing, stroking the nipples so that her breath caught and she laughed with delight. She started to rise up so that only the very tip of him was contained in her lips, and held herself there, nearly taunting him with anticipation.

He frowned and clenched his fingers on her hips. ‘I don’t want to fall from you. Don’t let me come out of you.’

‘I won’t, I won’t.’ And down she sank again, but so agonisingly deliberately that he could only moan, then back up again, barely keeping him within her, before lowering herself once more, taking him with insolent slowness.

‘Christ, the way you fuck me!’ he gasped, powerless to change it.

‘Say that again,’ she murmured, revelling in the idle rhythm she’d established.

‘I need you fucking me. I love you fucking me, Juliana.’

His use of her name, entirely honest and spontaneous, prompted her to sink fully onto the stiff length of his cock and kiss him as deeply as it was embedded within her.

‘And I love fucking you. It’s so good, it’s so phenomenally good,’ she mumbled to herself.

‘Tell me.’

She forced her eyes open and looked down at him, then bent to kiss him and whispered against his ear, still slowly pumping her tight wetness on his cock.

‘I love that, your cock deep inside me. I love being on top of you, watching you beneath me, knowing I’m pinned to you, feeling you inside me stretching me. I love it.’

‘Yes … yes … feel me,’ he said and for the first time he allowed himself some dominance, gripping her hips and grinding her onto him. And she felt him so perfectly a sob of wonder rose from her.

‘Touch me,’ she moaned, wanting the focus on her clit to complete the circle of pleasure.

‘No, touch yourself. I want to watch you.’

At that, he relinquished his brief moment of control and she threw herself back again, angling him high. Her fingers moved immediately to her clit. She rubbed it hard, needing her release – they had built it so perfectly but now they both needed to come. Biting her lip, she stared down at him as she started to buck urgently, squeezing him hard, making his brows furrow and his nostrils flare. His eyes were fixed on her hand as she worked her clit almost frantically, her breath coming in gasps as she built it.

He couldn’t hold back and came before her, his neck straining and his groan uncontained, but she didn’t stop. She rode through his climax, determined to come harder than ever. And she did. With a sound akin to a roar it hit her. Her body was flung forward with the force of it and she shuddered on him as pleasure tore through her ready limbs.

When the last spasms had left her, she fell forwards onto him, limp, barely able to move. For a time neither could, but at length he brought a heavy arm across her back, pinning her to him.

‘Oh my God, John, that was …’ she gasped.

‘Yes.’ He could barely speak.

‘I can’t remember when it’s felt like that before.’

And at that a sudden strength took hold of him and she found herself suddenly gripped by him and turned onto her back so that he was atop her, still inside her. He pushed up, ensuring his still hard cock remained deep within.

‘Neither can I.’ And he was kissing her again, showering her with kisses, covering her so that she could barely breathe.

‘John,’ she muttered, threading her fingers in his hair as he continued his adoration.

When he’d at last exhausted himself, he collapsed back on the bed beside her, at last slipping from her, and they lay, letting their breaths settle, staring above them.

She turned to him. ‘Can you really stay?’

‘Yes.’ He gave no more explanation.

Juliana propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him, tracing a path from his belly button up his sternum to the dark hairs on his chest.

‘We’re both at work tomorrow,’ she observed.

‘Indeed we are, Miss Crain.’ He looked at her with a slight smirk. ‘It might be wise not to arrive together.’

She threw back her head with a laugh. When she looked back at him she dropped her head with her usual bashful smile. ‘There you go again.’

‘What?’

‘Staring at me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘You have the most beautiful eyes, do you know that?’

He rolled them. ‘It’s been mentioned before.’

She giggled. ‘Sorry to be unoriginal.’

‘I don’t mind you telling me.’ He brought a hand up to her face. ‘And you do know that you also have the most beautiful eyes.’

She couldn’t look at him. ‘You make me blush.’

‘I like making you blush.’ He kissed her and slid his hand between her legs. ‘And I like making you come.’

She sucked in as he found her clit, but squeezed her legs shut. He’d find her slick from their coupling. ‘No, I’m not … it’s all … from …’

He chuckled. ‘You think I mind that? Relax. Lie back.’

So she did. She lay there and drifted while he lowered his head to her breasts and licked slowly and perfectly on her nipples, sucking, tugging, until they were as hard and pert as acorns.

She did drift, and her mind threw questions at her: _Was he always like this? Had he always been? How many lovers had he had? Before marriage? During it?_ She thought she was the first.

_Was he like this with his wife?_ She doubted it.

A swell of pride took Juliana and she rewarded herself by rolling her hips against his hand and pushing up into his mouth wantonly. As he stroked and licked and rubbed, she considered taking a moment to question, to step back and observe from afar: the rebel woman and the Nazi, the resistance fighter and the SS officer, the angel and the demon … but … when he did _that_ , when he touched her _there_ and when she remembered the way his eyes misted when he spoke of his son, the paradoxes shifted into an ambiguous but tangible harmony … the woman and the man, the sinners … the lovers.

She came quietly but he knew it in the flare of her eyes as she locked them into his, from the expression of being lost and found in one moment. She reached up and held his head and kissed him profoundly.

‘Sleep here … sleep with me. I’m lonely so often.’ She surprised herself with her admission but accepted it nonetheless.

‘Don’t be lonely. Not tonight,’ he murmured and they climbed in under the sheets and lay curled about each other.

They fell asleep together, but not quite as fast as they pretended they had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all write about needing cold showers after reading some of my chapters. I should tell you that after writing that I've been standing in the shower with it on 'icy' for the last hour!!
> 
> John ...  
> John, John, John ...
> 
> Go on. Tell me what you thought. x


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, this is the second chapter in as many days. Please read Chapter 21 if you haven't already. 
> 
> And there are some important notes at the end too. x

When they did sleep it was deep and content, but they woke in the night and for a time just lay staring at each other. Neither spoke. Then, after the longest kiss, he moved on top and entered her, bringing them both to pulsing climaxes before drifting back to sleep.

They eventually woke as dawn nudged through the curtains. Juliana lay against his chest as he stroked her arm.

‘You’ve never really told me what happened in Berlin,’ she said softly. John drew in a deep breath.

‘There hasn’t been the opportunity.’

She smiled. ‘No, I guess we’ve been … otherwise occupied.’

‘I know what I’d rather be doing.’

She stroked over his chest – two fingers in small circles. ‘You told me you were terrified, standing there in the Volkshalle.’

‘I was. There’s nothing like commendation to make one feel inadequate, especially in the Reich.’

‘But they adore you.’

‘No. They’ve elevated me only to control and demand of me. And now … I have to deliver, every day, every minute. I can’t put a foot wrong.’

She rested her chin on him and gently ran a finger over his lips. ‘Well luckily, you tend not to.’

He laughed cynically. ‘You don’t know how difficult it is. But I don’t regret doing what I did.’

‘What exactly did you do, John?’

He averted his eyes, almost embarrassed.

‘Please tell me,’ she pressed. ‘I’m curious.’

He sighed before continuing. ‘I did what had to be done. I had a film of a nuclear bomb test on Japanese territory. It convinced them not to proceed with the attack. If Heusmann had had his way there would’ve been a war of unfathomable horror. We would’ve been destroyed, all of us.’

She pushed herself up, energised. ‘How did you get the film?’

‘Kido, but Tagomi originally.’

‘Trade Minister Tagomi?’

‘Yes.’

She furrowed her brows. ‘But how did he … how did _he_ have that?’

‘I don’t know.’

She thought back to the kindness of the softly spoken minister she had so often found sitting in calm contemplation. ‘Tagomi’s a good man, a wonderful man. I worked for him briefly.’

‘I know.’

She looked at John. ‘Was it real?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘The footage. I mean … was it from our world?’

‘What are you talking about?’ He swallowed hard, averting his eyes. ‘How could it be anything else?’

She had voiced it and was now compelled to follow through with the thoughts she’d never been able to reconcile. ‘John … those films … they show something … different. But not different _within_ our world … different _beyond_ it, I’m sure. Another place. A separate world. I’ve seen things that I can’t explain. You know that. You have too.’

He still couldn’t look at her. ‘The film showed successful nuclear tests in Japanese territory. I know what I saw and I know that showing it to Himmler prevented war. That’s all.’

‘You know there’s something inexplicable about those films. But that’s not all.’ She pushed herself fully up, relieved to be saying these things aloud at last. ‘My sister was dead, John. I saw her body myself, rotting in an open mass grave.’ Her eyes were soon brimful with tears, prompting him at last to turn to her and cup her face to stroke the wetness away with his thumb. ‘And … and now she’s alive again. That’s where I went when I left you. I went back to my sister. She can’t explain it, neither can I.’

He frowned, trying to find meaning in her eyes. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I don’t understand any of it, John.’

He continued stroking away her tears, but neither had words left to make sense of the madness of it all. With a sigh, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. ‘I know nothing more than you do. The world I inhabit is complicated and dangerous enough. This world is more than enough to cope with. I can’t think of any more … it’s too much on top of everything else.’

She studied him carefully, the fine lines around his eyes, the long eyelashes dusting his skin, the little scar above his upper lip. No matter what he was, no matter what regime he stood for, he had done something that nobody could take away. ‘Whatever’s going on, John … _you_ saved it, you saved us.’

He sighed out again, eyes closed, and was silent for a time. ‘You’re not forgetting I’m a Nazi, are you?’

She looked hard at him again, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at her. When he did, she said, ‘ _Are_ you?’

‘Yes,’ he answered immediately.

‘You wear the uniform, you perform your duties … but _are_ you? Truly? Do you actually believe in any of it? Nazis don’t save good people, John.’

He didn’t at first answer, but when he did, he said, ‘Resistance fighters don’t kill each other to save Nazis.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Don’t complicate things, Miss Crain.’

‘You yourself said it – things are already complicated, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

He smiled softly and curled her hair behind her ear. She turned her head and kissed his hand. ‘But this, you and me, John … here and now … this is simple. At least it feels that way.’

Juliana lay back down on his chest and John drew his arm about her. The morning light grew brighter, the dawn chorus bolder.

‘Has Erich Raeder spoken to you?’ he asked, slipping it in almost unnoticed.

‘Who?’

‘Raeder … my Sturmbannführer.’

‘The man with you in the corridor and at the meeting? No, why? Does he have work for me?’

John sat up, turning from her a little and reaching for some water. ‘No, it’s nothing.’

‘What do you mean then?’

‘Nothing, forget it.’

She propped herself up. ‘Why did you ask me that now?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ He sounded terse and concentrated on taking a drink.

Juliana sat up, unsure what had just happened but unwilling to insist. She pushed herself off the bed and went to the bathroom to wash. When she returned he was sitting on the edge of the bed leaning forward with his arms braced, staring at the floor.

‘Are you alright?’ she questioned.

John looked up. ‘Yes, I’m sorry. There’s a lot on my mind.’

She glanced at the clock. ‘It’s 5:10. When do you need to go?’

He gave a wry smirk. ‘You want to get rid of me?’

She came over and sat beside him. ‘What do you think?’

He turned and looked at her. She didn’t flinch but was aware that she was gifting him with that hooded look through her eyelashes. She’d told him she didn’t curl her hair round her ear deliberately, but she indulged him this time.

‘I don’t have to leave just yet,’ he murmured.

She smiled gently. ‘No?’

‘No.’

And slowly he leant in, teasing her with the promise of a kiss. She waited for it, but when his lips met hers she gave herself over to him. Last night, she had directed their dance, now, he’d be the one leading.

John guided her to lie back on the bed, but just as she thought he’d push into her, he slipped down to kneel on the floor and gripped hold of her legs. With a sharp tug she was pulled forward, causing her to yelp with the sudden thrill of it. He perched her right on the edge and drew one leg and then the other over his shoulders. Then, ensuring she was taking in his every move, he gave her a shadow of a smirk and dropped his head.

The feel of him on her – slow, long licks, then trilling with the tip of his tongue, then taking her between his lips and sucking sweetly … she could do no more but release the beauty of it in one long bliss-laden sigh. At that moment, she could find no fault in life.

She brought a hand to his head, not to grip and hold him there – he needed no guidance – but to reassure herself that he was real.

‘John,’ she managed through another sigh.

He worked a finger up inside her while his tongue and lips enthralled her clit. He was completely absorbed in his task but would occasionally glance up at her. She met his eyes, assuring him of her approval and pleasure. He was imbibing her, there was no other word for it; they both needed it like air itself.

‘Don’t stop that,’ she breathed. ‘Don’t ever stop that.’

As much as she could have stayed like this forever, he was so attuned to her that her pleasure rose quickly and she couldn’t hold back.

‘Oh God, I’m going to come,’ she gasped, trying to delay, to hold in that perfect moment of gleaming brilliance for as long as she could.

But he closed his mouth over her clit, sucking it out of her. Juliana’s fingers clenched on the sheets in a sudden spasm as her orgasm overwhelmed her. She cried it out, shrill and uncontained. As soon as he felt her go, John brought his hand to her belly to hold her still, forcing ecstasy to crash through her immobilised body.

When she came down, he offered her a hand and pulled her up against him. She coiled her limp arms around his neck and kissed him with come-sated gratitude.

‘Thank you, thank you,’ she repeated through her adoring kisses, covering his face, ears, chin, any part of him she came across.

John muttered in her ear, low and urgent, ‘I haven’t finished. Kneel on the bed.’

She didn’t hesitate. Juliana crawled around and knelt on all fours. He climbed up behind her, took her hips in his hands and thrust his full length into her in one. The shock of it forced a gasp from her and made her fall forward. Pulling her back with a grunt, he started to move immediately, withdrawing nearly fully before driving back in with a conviction that was almost brutal. He held her hips tight and pulled her back onto him each time he thrust.

‘Fuck, Juliana, you’re tight on me.’

Her pussy was wet and snug after her orgasm, she knew it. She’d always liked doing it this way. With a patient man, it hit a place inside which brought her the deepest pleasure. She wondered if John would last as long as she needed, but her body was so accustomed to his that already she felt another climax preparing, feeding off her previous orgasm, ready again.

‘You’re so right on me, you’re so right.’ He was moaning it out and she thought she’d misheard. Had he said tight or right? Right, surely. It made her clench on him even more.

John was lost. He fucked her harder yet, pistoning in and out of her body with frantic determination. With a juddering gasp, he came just before Juliana’s second orgasm took her. Her moan mixed with his as their pleasure merged like their bodies.

Even after their climaxes had left them, he stayed in her, stroking slowly in and out. Juliana released a laugh of near disbelief. She had never imagined sex being this good, could never picture it being so again. He stroked her backside adoringly, his amazement as palpable as hers.

When at last he pulled out, she fell forward on the bed before turning her body heavily over to stare above her. She could feel his release warm and damp between her legs and pressed her legs together, wanting to keep a part of him inside her.

John lay beside her and at first neither spoke, they were too stunned to do so.

‘How is this happening?’ she asked.

He quirked his eyebrows, unsure. ‘Paradox?’

She looked across, a sex-lazy smile on her face. ‘Is that it? Perhaps it is.’

She curled into him again. ‘I’ve never had anyone who’s …’

‘No.’

They lay, aware of what their revelation meant: that he was married to someone who didn’t make him feel the way she did; that she had found someone who made her feel this way but was everything she was supposed to hate.

He continued, ‘I don’t do that. I haven’t done it since before I was married … only to you.’

‘You mean … with your mouth?’

‘Yes.’

She reached over and kissed him tenderly. ‘You’re a natural. It was sublime.’

‘Sublime?’ he gave a sly grin. ‘There’s a compliment. I didn’t think I missed it. But …’ He turned to look at her and stroked her hair with the tips of two fingers, ‘I could feed on you forever.’

She kissed him again, unable not to. Then her eyes widened in shock and she pulled back. ‘Oh God!’

‘What?’

‘I’ve never done it to you!’

‘What?’

‘I’ve never gone down on you.’ She frowned in dismay and shame. ‘I’m so sorry.’

For a time he just looked at her, as if trying to make sense of her, but then with a sudden splutter, he burst out laughing. At length she had no option but to join in.

‘Do you see me complaining?’ he said.

‘No, but seriously … that’s not fair of me.’

‘Well … it depends if you want to or not. I don’t want you doing anything you’re not comfortable with.’

‘Oh,’ she grinned, ‘I’m comfortable with it, I just … haven’t got round to it yet.’

‘Well then … I look forward to it.’ He smiled but then his eyes darkened and they were kissing again.

When at last he pulled away he threw himself down with a groan. ‘Shit, this is no good. I have to go. I can’t be seen leaving here too late.’

‘You can’t be seen leaving here at all.’

He gave her a lingering kiss before pushing himself up and off the bed.

She propped herself up and asked as casually as she could, ‘Do you think you’ll be able to … do this again? Stay?’

He paused on the way to the bathroom. ‘Of course … but not for a while.’

‘No.’ He couldn’t raise suspicions, after all. ‘Are you busy today?’

‘Am I ever not?’ he said with regretful resignation. ‘Can I use your shower?’

‘Of course. But …’ She climbed from the bed and came up to him, pressing herself against him. ‘… you might need me to show you how it works.’

He stared down, his eyes moving between hers and her lips. ‘I might. I can be stupid that way.’

‘You hide it well,’ she crooned.

‘Years of practise, Miss Crain.’

He bent to her, but instead of a kiss, he caught her bottom lip in his teeth, not hard but a gentle sharp tug which made her want more. And his hand rose to her breast, his thumb instinctively finding the nipple.

John began kissing her neck, an open, hot tasting and grazing of all she was. She sighed out the truth, ‘I don’t think I can ever stop.’

‘Let’s get to the shower at least,’ he murmured.

John took her hand, pulling her with him into the bathroom. As affixed as they were to each other, she somehow managed to turn the water on and adjust the temperature.

They practically fell in together. The water and steam cocooned and amplified the wet heat of their bodies: hands and legs and arms and mouths became a tangle of indistinguishable desire. Never parting, they kissed, soaped, stroked, washed, their limbs as indivisible to them as to the curious pigeon who paused briefly on the window ledge.

And when they had exhausted their separate togetherness, she turned around and he took her, her hands splayed high against the steam-frosted glass, her backside pushed back enough for him to slide his wet cock deep inside her.

Water, heat and complete penetration … they came together.

John was out of the door and in his car, silent and unseen by anyone, by 6:15.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, they're in deep. And it's only going to get so much more complicated. *rubs hands gleefully* 
> 
> *EDIT* BY POPULAR REQUEST (NOT LEAST OF ALL MY OWN), I'VE GONE AND WRITTEN THE SHOWER SCENE IN FULL, EXPLICIT, DETAILED GLORY, BUT HAVE POSTED IT AS A SEPARATE STORY CALLED 'CLEANSED'. IF THIS LINK DOESN'T WORK, YOU CAN FIND IT ON MY PROFILE. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879745 BE WARNED - IT'S VERY DETAILED.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many apologies for the delay in updating. It's not been due to lack of want, but just life getting in the way for the last few weeks. 
> 
> I'm still completely committed to this fic and the glorious news and footage from ComicCon has fired the muse even more. I CANNOT WAIT FOR OCTOBER 5TH!! But ... I suspect this story will be a distinctly alternate reality to the alternate realities that are the reality of MitHC. I'm pretty sure of certain things which will happen in S3, and ... well, I'll shut up now. Hope you still enjoy this. Lots of love, LL. x

The next few days passed quickly. Work was hectic and she suspected John was away. There was an increased security presence when he was in the building and she grew used to figuring out his comings and goings.

When she walked into work the Wednesday following their time in the apartment, she knew he was around. Guards were standing to attention at regular intervals on the ground floor, and scrutinized all employees subtly but intensely.

Juliana worked concertedly as ever but was aware that several floors above her was a man she could barely stop thinking about.

Fortunately for her, her patience was about to be rewarded.

Kitty was in with her discussing data files when the telephone rang.

‘Hold on a minute,’ Juliana said, reaching for the phone and answering. ‘Accounts department, Herr Genten’s office. How may I help you?’

‘Miss Mills.’

Immediately, John Smith’s voice sent a curl of anticipation through her. He had the most delicious voice, she could only admit.

‘Good afternoon …’ She hesitated but felt Kitty’s inquiring eyes upon her. In that instant she could think of no reason for deceit, and so she addressed him as she would be expected to, ‘… Oberst-Gruppenführer.’ Kitty’s mouth curled into an enthralled smile.

‘How are you, Miss Mills?’ continued the voice on the end of the line.

‘Very well, sir.’

‘Are you alone?’

‘No, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

‘That is a shame.’

‘How can I help you, sir?’

‘I think you know the answer to that, Miss Mills.’

‘I regret that’s not a feasible option at this moment, sir.’

‘Regrettably, neither is it for me. I’m due in a meeting in five minutes.’ He paused momentarily. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘Yes, sir. I concur with that.’

‘I find myself thinking a lot about showers.’

‘That’s understandable, sir, and, again, I concur.’

‘You do too?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I want to come inside you again, Juliana. I can’t stop wanting to come inside you.’

‘Again, sir, I can only corroborate that sentiment.’

He laughed gently down the phone line. She wanted to join him in it but couldn’t. ‘Herr Genten is away at the moment, sir, but I’m here and Miss Marshall is also – she is always on hand and is very observant and reliable about all matters.’

‘Ah. So you’re telling me I can’t come to your office and take you over your desk because she’d walk in?’

‘That’s right, Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

‘Another shame.’

‘Indeed, sir.’

‘And I can’t visit your apartment yet. I need to … leave time.’ His voice held an edge of seriousness which turned her stomach. Another reminder of the reality of their situation.

‘I realise that.’

‘But I miss our times together greatly. I hope, Miss Mills, that once again … you concur.’

‘I do, sir. Forcefully.’

‘In that case … there would seem to be only one option available.’

‘I could provide you with the data, sir?’

‘By presenting it yourself in my office.’

‘Exactly.’

‘In two hours’ time?’

‘I believe I can find everything you require by then.’

He staggered in a breath of frustration which she felt down the line. ‘This fucking meeting.’

‘But I’ll be able to deliver it in the most effective way at that time, sir. If you recall, I suggested an alternative method of presentation the last time we spoke. I believe it will be very effective.’

He said nothing but she was aware he had not put down the phone. She thought she heard him swallow.

‘Oberst-Gruppenführer?’

‘Miss Mills … you are … somewhat distracting. I’m not sure the SS elite in the meeting I’m going to would be pleased to hear how you’ve been diverting me. Luckily for us both … I have no intention of telling them. Do you have any advice on how to get through a forum discussion with an enormous hard-on?’

‘I’m sure you’ll manage that, sir. I’ll bring the figures to you in two hours’ time. Good bye.’ And she put the phone down.

Kitty literally squawked. ‘What did he want? What did he want?’

_He wanted to lie me over this desk and fuck me senseless._ ‘Some figures on the Brazilian trade deal from last year.’

‘Oh.’ Kitty’s face fell and her shoulders slumped. ‘That’s exciting,’ she said, deflated.

‘Hm.’

‘Do you want me to get them? I could take them to him if you’d like.’

‘That’s fine. I had an idea about how to present them which sheds light on some of the anomalies and could explain the outliers.’ She’d silence her with statistics.

‘Huh?’

‘Never mind. I’ll sort it.’ Her look at Kitty was nearly a glare.

‘God, I wish I’d had that voice pouring into my ear for five minutes.’

_Pouring_ _into_ _her_ … Juliana wanted that. She wanted him to pour all of himself into her.

‘Kitty … we’re all very busy … I suggest you get on with your work.’

Kitty pursed her lips and turned with a sharp look. ‘Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it.’ She slumped off.

Juliana glanced at the clock. Half past two. Half past four could not come soon enough.

She gathered some documents, papers that she was going to throw in the trash, and at 4:25 rose from her desk.

Kitty eyed her as she walked out. ‘You heading up to his office?’

‘Eventually.’ She continued, then added over her shoulder, ‘And, no … you can’t come.’

\--xoOox--

As she got into the elevator, Juliana felt a ripple of excitement. It felt like weeks rather than days since she’d last seen him. She almost chided herself. This was ridiculous. How could she be feeling this way about a man with whom she had no future? Did she even have a present with him?

On leaving the elevator, she turned into the corridor and paused, bringing a hand to her forehead. A woman with a ferocious gait and no tolerance bumped into her and cursed. ‘What are you doing? Out of the way. This isn’t Central Park!’

Juliana didn’t apologise, but continued on her way.

Like she had the other day for the meeting, she passed several armed guards, closely watching the 20th floor where Smith’s office was located. When she had been with Genten, he had easily dealt with the necessary requirements, but now a tension gripped her. The first guard took a step forward, not intimidating, not blocking, but enough to stop her.

‘Your name and business, ma’am?’

‘Julia Mills from Herr Genten’s office. I’m delivering some documents to Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith as requested by him.’

‘May I see your identity papers?’

‘Of course.’ She handed over her papers and he scrutinised them intently for some time before picking up the telephone.

‘One moment, please.’

The guard waited for the answer on the other end of the line. ‘Julia Mills, sir, with documents for the Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

She couldn’t distinguish what was being said but the man seemed pleased enough. He replaced the receiver and gave her a warm smile, his face looking younger than it had before. ‘You are to proceed, Miss Mills. Make your way to the end of the corridor.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiled, affecting deference, and continued down the hallway. Before she reached the imposing doors at the end, they opened. Her belly turned over and her mouth immediately rose into a smile. How she was going to prevent herself wrapping her body around him right now, she wasn’t sure.

But the man approaching her from the doors was not John Smith, but Erich Raeder. He paced towards her briskly, a broad smile on his face.

‘Miss Mills! How good to see you up here again so soon. If I’d known the Oberst-Gruppenführer needed these papers, I would’ve come to get them myself.’

She dropped her head, partly through disappointment, partly because his gaze on her was a little too bright. ‘Oh, it’s no problem, and I know that the Oberst-Gruppenführer required them urgently.’

‘What papers are they?’

‘On the Brazilian trade deal.’

‘Oh.’ He sounded bewildered. The Brazilian trade deal was probably priority number 48 on the Reich’s list of business matters. She swallowed.

‘How are you, Erich?’ she said to diffuse the moment of confusion, turning her head up to him and offering a shy smile. ‘It is Erich, isn’t it?’ She hoped mild flirtation would offset the overstepping of protocol.

Colour rose in his cheeks and he lowered his gaze with an exhaled smile. ‘That’s right … Julia. Do you mind me calling you that?’

‘Well, I was the presumptuous one to start with.’

‘I was impressed with your work in the meeting the other day.’

She almost laughed. ‘I really had little to do. Shorthand may require concentration, but it doesn’t need analysis and debate.’

‘Still … I get the feeling you could contribute to the debate admirably given the chance.’

‘You’re too kind.’

‘Umm … Miss Mills … Julia …’ He took a step towards her. She wanted to instinctively step back from him but it would have been too obvious. He shuffled his feet, about to ask her something. She dreaded what it might be. ‘I was wondering if you’d care to –‘

And at that moment the doors opened again and John stepped out.

‘Miss Mills,’ he said, an edge to his tone. He noted the proximity of his Sturmbannführer as they stood together.

‘Oberst-Gruppenführer!’ she said in relief, stepping aside. ‘I’ve brought the papers as requested.’

She didn’t notice Raeder drop his head in disappointment.

‘Good. Thank you.’ There was a moment where they both realised there was no real reason for her to stay. Surely it was enough to hand over the documents and leave. ‘Umm …’ Smith stood, his hands deep in his pockets, and glanced around as he did in those moments when he was thinking. ‘You should step into my office for a moment, Miss Mills. I need to discuss some of the figures with you for you to pass back to Herr Genten.’

‘Very well, sir.’

Smith held his hand out to usher her into the room.

She walked through, John following behind. She was aware that Erich kept pace with him. John stopped and turned to him. ‘That’s alright, Erich, you’re not needed.’

‘Oh. Very well. If you say so, sir.’

‘You have a lot of other work to be busying yourself with. I won’t bore you with this.’

‘It’s not a problem.’

‘That’s fine. Thank you.’ He practically shut the door in his Sturmbannführer’s face.

Juliana stood inside his office, remembering the last time she’d been here, noting the furniture, the desk. John took slow paces towards her, but there was a tension about him which prevented her from curling her arms about him immediately, which is what she’d envisaged.

‘What was Erich talking to you about?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘Nothing. He wanted to know what I was delivering.’

‘Uh huh.’ He stood with his hands in his pockets and wouldn’t look at her.

She came up to him, slowly, sensually. This time she did let her arms twine around his neck. ‘John … really?’

He at last looked at her, the muscle in his jaw working. ‘He likes you.’

‘Maybe.’

‘He wants to ask you out.’

‘But he hasn’t.’

‘He will.’

‘But he hasn’t. John … what does it matter?’

He threw his head back and sighed. ‘Fuck. I feel like I’m fucking 15 again. This is crazy.’

‘Yes, it is … because …’ She brought her hand down and undid the buttons concealing him from her, slipping it in to curl around his cock. ‘… I’m here now, with you, and, as you know, the Brazilian trade deal requires our utmost attention.’

At last she felt him relax. ‘How are the tariff negotiations going?’

She bit her lip and continued plying him as he stiffened in her palm. ‘Oh … I think things are looking up.’

‘The surplus is on the rise?’

She felt him swell further in her hand. ‘Most definitely.’

‘Excellent.’

‘Uh huh.’ She met his lips and they kissed slow and long while she held him, enclosing him securely within her confident fingers. ‘Did you lock the door?’ she murmured.

‘Yes,’ he slurred, seeking out her mouth again.

‘Good … because we really don’t want to be disturbed.’ And with that she sank to her knees. John leant back against the couch, his fingers gripping hard onto the smooth, dark leather.

‘Juliana …’ he murmured.

She turned her eyes up to him, dark and inviting. Her lips were slightly parted, her breath shushed softly from them.

He swallowed hard. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘Shh,’ she hushed, and loosened his buttons to free him completely. She felt the tension in his thighs and abdomen, and looked up again. ‘Do you not want me to do this? I’ll stop if you want.’

He didn’t at first answer and she allowed him his doubt, but the idea that the most powerful man in the country was conflicted by her gave her a rush of intoxicating control, which she wasn’t sure she should get used to.

Juliana remained there but gave him time. It didn’t take long.

‘No … don’t stop.’

Instinctively, she dampened her lips and saw him focus on them, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Juliana opened her mouth and slid her lips slowly over the head, closing gently around it, almost tentatively, with a strange instinct not to alarm him. She needn’t have feared. Immediately, he moaned and she felt his fingers thread through her hair to hold her there. She sought lower, moving down onto him and letting her tongue catch the underside. This time he hissed. She glanced up but his head was back and his own mouth open in abandon. She drew off, sucking her cheeks in, before pushing down again, deeper still.

Now he pulled his head back and opened his eyes. He was frowning down at her, not in annoyance, but in bewildered pleasure. She began to move faster, drawing her cheeks in around him and working rhythmically. He gasped in as pleasure rose. ‘Fuck …’ It was barely a word, but she heard it.

Juliana broke away briefly. ‘Is it alright? Shall I carry on?’

‘Yes, yes, please, please.’

He leant back, bracing himself on the couch. She blotted out the sight of his uniform and the insignia glaring round his arm. She focused only on his beautiful face, creased with pleasure as she circled her lips around his cock again and fed it deeper between them. He groaned and the fingers on her scalp tightened. Juliana drew back and teased with her tongue, running it along the seam and over the head to tingle along the slit until he hissed, then she was back, enfolding him in her cossetting wet warmth and tightening the hold she had on him.

If it had been a long time since he’d had this, it had been some time since she had given. It was not something she did readily unless she was completely content and secure with a man, a man that she …

Juliana concentrated on sucking rather than what her mind threw at her. But she did feel secure with him. She wouldn’t be enjoying it if she wasn’t. He was fresh and hard, and that overwhelming needful lust gave her a hunger she hadn’t experienced for an age, and so she applied herself yet harder, faster, pulling her cheeks in and dragging along him tight and wet so that his breath grew ragged, rapid, and his body prepared for release.

‘I … I can’t hold back,’ he moaned, and tried to pull out of her. She held him there. ‘I don’t want to … let me … ’

He was embarrassed, it was clear. When was the last time John Smith had been embarrassed?

‘It’s alright, I don’t mind. I want you to. I want all of you.’

‘I’ve never …’ He was frowning again, and for a man whose expression was usually so impenetrably controlled, she found it gloriously appealing.

‘Well … there’s always a first time.’

And she was on him again, reveling in the length and rigidity of the warm hard flesh enclosed in her mouth, pulling on it, sucking, licking, working it faster and faster to release on her tongue.

It happened quickly. He tensed, his fingers dug into her head so hard he scratched, although he’d later apologize.

‘Juliana!’

He came, spurting three times into her mouth. She took it all as his moans of helpless rapture heaved from him.

She held him there for some time before slowly releasing him and standing up. He glanced around. ‘Do you need …? I have a handkerchief somewhere.’

‘It’s okay.’ He glanced at her in surprise. The fact that she had spoken told him all he needed.

‘I … thank you.’ He dropped his head.

‘Was it alright?’

He sniffed out a short laugh. ‘Alright? It was incredible. I’m just sorry I …’

‘What?’

‘… couldn’t last long. Like I said, it’s been a while, and I’ve never come in …’ He spluttered out a slight embarrassed laugh before daring to meet her eyes again. ‘It was very good. You’re very good.’

‘I don’t want you to think I do that for everyone. It’s been a while for me too, you know. I wouldn’t have if –’

He cut her off, pulling her in and kissing her with the deepest gratitude before resting his forehead on hers.

She smiled up softly. ‘Now we’re even at least.’

‘Even.’ He sniffed out wryly and at last drew back, pulling in a breath.

The ridiculousness of the word was not lost on her. He, the most influential and dangerous man in the country; she, a lowly administration assistant fighting against all he stood for. Beyond bodies and conversation, they were not equal, but within them? She wondered, and then cursed herself for allowing herself to.

He tucked himself away and sighed out. ‘I want to spend the night with you again so damned much it’s killing me … but I can’t. Not yet.’

‘There’s no rush. It’d be foolish to court attention.’

‘Court attention? You sound almost antiquated, Miss Crain.’

She smirked. ‘So do you if you insist on calling me that.’

‘I’ve told you before, I like calling you that.’

Juliana smiled up and met him for a kiss again. He drew back slowly and stroked her hair from her face. ‘You’ll have to go out past Raeder again.’ His tone was flat.

She grinned and rested her hands on his chest. ‘Why, Oberst-Gruppenführer, I do believe you’re jealous.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘I barely have a right to be. I’m the one who’s … married.’ The word stuck in his throat.

‘But you don’t deny being jealous.’

He paced over to the window and stared out. ‘No.’ John continued looking blankly outside, deep in thought. ‘But the thing is … you need to behave normally. You need to be seen as a completely normal woman of the Reich.’

‘I’m trying to be. I have a job at GNR headquarters. I commute, I smile, I produce good work.’

‘A completely normal woman of the Reich would be trying to find a husband.’

She tensed. ‘Well … I’m not doing that.’

‘Perhaps …’ He rubbed his forehead wearily. ‘Perhaps you should.’

‘I should what?’ She crossed her arms. Discomfort had taken hold. He turned his head to hers but didn’t move his body full round, as if he was evading something.

‘Perhaps you should date him.’

She stared unblinking for a time. ‘Are you serious?’

He gave a little shrug. ‘Why not?’

‘Because … I don’t want to! I have no interest in the man. I’m with you.’

‘ _With_ me?’ It was nearly a scoff. ‘Don’t be foolish. We’re not together, not like that. _There_ _is_ _no_ _us_. You said so yourself that night you ran away from me.’

She braced herself, anger rising forcefully. ‘I ran away from you? You’re damned right I did … Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

Immediately again she saw him as he had been to her – cold and intent on purpose. His uniform sat on him starker than ever.

‘You can’t tell me what to do, John.’

He fixed her with her eyes and said nothing, but all she took from his stance and gaze was, _I can and I will._

But then he seemed to slacken. ‘I’m just thinking aloud. I’m just considering.’ He almost sighed.

‘Yeah, well, don’t. Not about that. When it comes to this, I will do exactly what I want to do and how I want to do it.’

‘I’m trying to keep you safe, keep you away from the scrutiny of those who are still very curious about you … including Erich himself.’

She stopped again. ‘He suspects me?’

‘He has before.’

‘Has he mentioned it to you directly?’

‘Of course, but he was also keen for his suspicions to be allayed.’

She was coiled with anger. ‘And you think fucking him will put him off the scent.’

There was the slightest pinking of his cheekbones. ‘I didn’t say anything about that.’

She came up to him and stared right into him. ‘Would you be happy with that? Me fucking another man?’

He could barely look at her. ‘You know I wouldn’t. I’d hate it.’

‘But I have to be content with you fucking your wife.’

He darted her a hard look, a mixture of shock and fury. His nostrils flared as he tempered his reaction, but he said clearly, ‘You think I do?’

‘I try not to think about it at all.’

Juliana turned and started for the door but he caught her before she’d gone more than a few paces and spun her round so forcefully she landed with a gasping thud against him. His hand encircled her wrist and pulled her in hard against him.

‘I don’t. I haven’t for months, not since before Thomas’ diagnosis. And now … I can’t. I can’t do it. Not to her, not to me … and not to you. I can’t think of anyone but you. I can’t stop wanting you. But this is not … _normal_ , Juliana, as much as you want it to be. It can’t be. And the Reich does not tolerate _abnormal_. So if I think of ways to keep us going without detection, I suggest you take them.’

She searched his eyes and, despite the flinty determination, there was not an ounce of guile in them, as there had not been since near the beginning of the road trip. She thought about fighting him, but she knew he was right. And he smelt and felt too, too good.

Slowly he lowered his head and she took his kiss briefly before he drew back again, but he didn’t let go of his hold on her. Instead, he reached down with his other hand and reached under her skirt, pushing her underwear aside and finding her quickly. She should resent it; she should summon shame that he would find her wet, but she wanted it so much that she shifted her legs to aid his searching fingers. He stroked and plucked, then pushed two up into her, his brows furrowing with his own need. It didn’t take long; she had been primed throughout due to what she’d done earlier and – as much as it pained her to acknowledge – by their argument.

She came quickly with a gasping shudder and he pulled her in almost painfully against him as her wide eyes met his.

At length he relaxed his grip and stepped back from her. Silently, Juliana tidied herself and moved for the door. She unlocked it but turned back to look at him before opening it.

‘Even,’ he said.

With a hint of a smile, she opened the door and walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They've still got it. 
> 
> If you haven't seen any pics or footage of Alexa and Rufus at ComicCon, do try to. You'll see why my muse was fired. *sunglasses emoji*


	24. Chapter 24

As she left Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith’s office, Juliana was cossetted by a warm seep of satisfaction. She tried to hide the smirk which tugged at her mouth. Keeping her head lowered, she walked purposefully down the corridor.

‘All go well, Miss Mills?’

She stopped in surprise. Erich Raeder had stepped out of his office as she walked past. She tucked her hair behind her ear and hoped her blush wasn’t too prominent. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Quite a lot to discuss.’ He said it lightly, but she detected a hint of sharp curiosity.

‘There were some anomalies which needed scrutiny.’

‘Well, I’m sure the Oberst-Gruppenführer appreciated your help. I imagine your skills went down very well.’

Juliana nearly let out a splurge of laughter. She nearly became so wide-eyed and aghast that her shock would have been transparent. But, remarkably, she managed to simply stand with a mild smile and say softly, ‘Let’s hope so.’

Erich smiled back. He had not realised the significance of his words for a moment.

‘Well,’ she continued, ‘I should be heading back. Good bye, Sturmbannführer.’

‘You went with Erich earlier.’

‘That was presumptuous of me, I apologise.’

‘No, I … I really don’t mind … Julia.’

Now it was awkward.

‘OK … Bye.’ She started off again.

‘Julia! Umm … Miss Mills … would you mind just running through something with me in my office for a moment?’

Her mouth ran dry. She motioned down the corridor. ‘I really need to get back.’

‘It won’t take a moment … please.’

He indicated into his office. She had no choice but to follow.

Erich stepped in after her and pushed the door half shut without closing it completely she saw with relief.

‘Umm …’

He was quite sweetly pathetic, she thought.

‘Julia, the new Riefenstahl movie has just opened, it’s supposed to be outstanding.’

She waited. If he had to say it, she would make him work for it.

‘Have you heard about it?’ he asked, picking at a bit of splintered wood on the corner of the desk. ‘They say it’s her best yet.’

‘I haven’t heard, no,’ she said briefly.

‘Well, umm … like I said, it’s supposed to be excellent, so … I was going to go and wondered if you’d, you know … like to go as well? … At the same time.’

_Dear God, it was like pulling teeth._

Juliana was so relieved he’d finally got it out that she almost said yes just to get it over with. But she remembered herself.

‘Gosh, that’s very kind of you. I’m curious about the movie but not sure when I’ll be able to find time. I really want to establish myself here, so I often find myself taking work home with me. I’m unfortunately very busy.’

‘Oh, I see.’ His disappointment was palpable but he took her at her word. ‘I understand, that’s admirable. Perhaps if you have a think about when you may some free time.’

John’s words rang through her mind. _Perhaps you should …_

She swallowed hard and looked at the man opposite her. She could detect no malice or guile in him at all. It was almost easy to forget he was a Nazi. He was nice. She liked nice. Would it be so bad?

‘Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you, Erich.’ She smiled gently and turned to leave.

‘I’ll … umm … come and see you in the next couple of days or so.’

Juliana turned back but said with finality. ‘OK … Good bye then.’

‘Good bye, Julia.’

\--xoOox--

Juliana walked hurriedly back to her office. She swept past Kitty, ignoring her as she got up and ran in after her.

‘So …’ Kitty simpered, leaning over the desk. ‘How was it?’

‘Fine, if you get turned on by the differences between accrued and operational expenses.’

‘Oh, Julia,’ she whined, ‘you know I have a thing about the guy … drop me a morsel.’

Juliana couldn’t help but be amused. After all, Kitty wasn’t the only one who had a thing about the guy.

She sighed and crossed her arms, letting her lips curl up slightly. ‘He looks really good when he smokes, I’ll give him that.’

Her colleague grinned. ‘Was he dragging on his cigarette while you were there?’ She elongated the word dragging wickedly, prompting Juliana to splutter out a giggle.

‘Something like that.’ She thought back to what she’d been dragging on earlier.

‘Oh, to be that cigarette!’ sighed Kitty.

‘Kitty, for God’s sake. You can’t talk about the Oberst-Gruppenführer like that!’

Kitty cocked a judgemental eyebrow. ‘And you can’t tell me he doesn’t make you the teensy weensiest bit horny.’

Juliana dropped her head and shook it. ‘I don’t think of him like that. Anyway … Sturmbannführer Raeder was very attentive today.’

_Shit_. She shouldn’t have said that, but she’d been trying to get away from talking about John.

‘Oh?’ Again, Kitty lit up. ‘Well, this is interesting! He’s a cutie, and sooo sweet.’

_Sweet_? He was a Nazi. She nearly laughed out loud.

‘He seems nice,’ she managed.

‘Did he ask you out?’

‘He might have.’

‘And did you accept?’

She pulled down the blinds of sense at last. ‘Kitty … please … this is private stuff.’

Her colleague tutted, put out that she wasn’t confiding in her. ‘Suit yourself. You know, you could lighten up a bit, Jules.’ At last, she left her in peace. 

Juliana let her head fall into her hands. ‘Fuck.’

She hadn’t asked for this. She sat, staring down at the table, her hair pulled between her fingers.

She loved her little bubble with John, the bubble they’d created on the road trip. Is that what she was seeking again now? Is that what she’d come back for? She’d told herself it wasn’t. It was to try to work out what the hell she was doing with her life. It was to undermine Nazism, to destroy the GNR. And here she was sleeping with the enemy. Here she was responding to the pleasant advances of a man she should deplore.

She had hated John Smith, hadn’t she?

She didn’t now, she wouldn’t lie to herself that monumentally.

And Raeder?

_Nice._ That was the word which kept tapping away.

In another world, she wouldn’t hesitate in accepting an offer of a date from a _nice_ man, out of courtesy, if nothing else. She was here in this life now, ostensibly living a normal existence. How could she forge onwards with her path of self-discovery if she didn’t do that? John was right … _perhaps_ _you_ _should_.

One date wouldn’t hurt.

They weren’t a couple, she and John; she was reminded of that at every furtive fumbling and coupling snatched on desks and elsewhere. She knew it with every weave of deceit and duplicity. Her relationship with John – or rather, the warped sham of it – could continue; after all, it didn’t exist to anyone but them.

For a moment a flicker of guilt caught her. She was deceiving Helen … she would soon be deceiving Erich too …

She reached for a cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply. She’d done worse, hadn’t she? She remembered the curious embryonic twitch of the young soldier at the facility in Billings after she’d shot him through the forehead.

Juliana glanced into the bedroom. Another ripple of sensation took her, not guilt this time. She stared at the bed, picturing herself with him, wanting him now, missing him inside her.

She crossed her legs, sniffing out a laugh at the stupidity of it. Had she come to that? Trying to staunch the ache of desire for a man she should be wanting to kill? A man who was at home now, presumably in bed with his wife?

She turned her attention to the nothingness of the room around her and drew on the cigarette; it tasted bitter. She hadn’t yet worked out her purpose here, and she needed to continue, continue surviving and, in the eyes of the GNR, thriving.

She would give Erich Raeder his answer.

\--xoOox--

There was no news from John the next day. She noted with some satisfaction that she didn’t let it affect her. Once emotional dependency took hold, she must reassess. Still … whenever the phone rang a frisson of anticipation pulsed through her, she would admit that.

She answered now as it rang during a lull in her work that afternoon.

‘Julia Mills, Herr Genten’s office. How may I help?’

‘Julia, good afternoon, it’s Erich Raeder.’

‘Oh, hello, sir.’ She hoped she didn’t sound too disappointed.

He chuckled down the line. ‘Sir? There’s really no need for that.’

‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m just too cautious.’

‘I like that … Cautious is very wise … initially.’

He was flirting. She was almost relieved. His polite deference had previously been torpid. She gifted him with a light laugh back.

‘I’m sorry not to come and see you personally. I was out on business with the Oberst-Gruppenfuhrer and haven’t been in the office all day.’

He was busy. Not Erich, John. Satisfied relief settled in her.

‘That’s no problem.’

‘I was wondering if you’d given any thought to going to the Riefenstahl movie?’

She had decided last night, but now it came to it, she hesitated. She wanted to go to the movies, like she used to when she was a kid with her dad, but not with him, and not to see that. She licked her lips, which suddenly felt dry.

‘I was, umm, looking at my diary …’ she started.

‘If you’re still busy, I understand. Perhaps at another –‘

‘No, it’s fine. I’d like to. Thursday is good.’

He exhaled audibly in delight down the line. Juliana closed her eyes against his clear happiness.

‘Thursday?’ he beamed. ‘Yes … that’s, yes, great. Thursday’s good for me too. I think it shows at 7. Shall I pick you up from your apartment?’

‘Oh, you don’t need to trouble yourself with that. I’ll meet you at the movie theatre at quarter to.’

‘Yes, fine, okay … Julia. Thank you. It’s, umm … on the corner of West 45th and Central Park West.’

His politeness was cloying. ‘That’s good. I look forward to it, Erich.’

‘Yes. Right, that’s great. Good bye then.’

‘Good bye.’

She waited for him to put the phone down. He didn’t, so she did.

Juliana sat afterwards, arms folded, biting her lip.

Kitty opened the door and poked her head round. ‘I’m heading home. You calling it a day?’

She glanced at the clock. It was already nearly six. She exhaled slowly. ‘Yeah … yeah, I’ll come.’

‘Wanna get a drink?’

‘Not today. Sorry, Kitty. I’m done in.’

‘S’ok, I get it. Maybe another time. Tomorrow or Thursday?’

Juliana was careful this time. She didn’t give it away. ‘Yeah, maybe tomorrow.’

\--xoOox--

Juliana arrived home and kicked off her shoes. Her apartment was gloomy but she had no desire to turn on the light. The darkness was comforting. She headed to the kitchen for a drink but was stopped when the phone rang.

Pacing over in stockinged feet, she picked up the receiver.

‘Hello?’

There was the slightest beat of a pause.

‘Erich told me about your date on Thursday.’

She gripped the receiver as the balm of him hit her. ‘John ...’

‘It’s the right thing to do.’

‘John … where are you?’

‘At home. In my study.’ His voice. A coiling ribbon of intimacy. She closed her eyes to absorb it.

‘I can’t come tonight,’ he continued.

The disappointment was sharp and surprising. ‘I understand.’

She could hear his breath down the line, low, slow. She took it; she needed it.

‘You know I want to,’ he continued.

‘I want you to as well. So much.’

She clung to him down the phone line, breathing with him, thinking through him.

For a time there was silence, and then he spoke.

‘Touch yourself.’

Immediately, her body responded, twisting its need.

‘John … you’re at home.’

‘Touch yourself.’

‘What if someone walks in?’

‘They won’t. I want you to come. I want to hear it. I need to hear it.’

Slowly, she reached down, lifted her skirt and slipped her fingers into her underwear. She couldn’t help but sigh out as she grazed her already needy clit.

‘Are you wet?’

‘Yes.’

‘From what, Juliana?’

‘You.’

‘I’m not there, Juliana.’

‘Your voice.’

‘Just that?’

‘It’s enough.’

Another beat of silence, save for the faint, low shush of his breath, then: ‘Push two fingers up into you.’

She did, imagining they were him. This time her sharp inhalation caused him to sniff out a smile, which she heard.

‘Good?’

‘I want it to be you.’

‘I’m right here.’

‘Oh God, I want it to be you,’ she repeated, the desperation in her tone unmaskable.

‘Rub yourself, circle it. I can picture you, Juliana. I can almost fucking feel you on my fingers.’

‘John …’ She slid her fingers out and ground the underside of her knuckles over her clit. ‘John … fuck, I want you.’

‘Don’t stop. Feel it.’

‘God, I am.’

‘Harder. I know how wet you are. Use it.’

She rubbed and rubbed, building, her fingers gliding through her greedy flesh.

‘I …’ She moaned, nearly there, _nearly_ …

‘Come on, Juliana, come.’ His voice was stroking her clit as powerfully as her fingers.

‘Oh, fuck, John, please …’

‘It’s me, Juliana, it’s always me. I’m here. I’m right fucking here … know that.’

And she shattered so hard she nearly dropped the phone. With a heaving groan Juliana cried and gasped it out, her body shuddering through the intensity.

She couldn’t speak afterwards, but he would hear her sated panting.

‘Juliana …’

‘Yes?’ she managed.

‘Enjoy the movie.’

He put the phone down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, John ...
> 
> I have so many lovely plans for this story. It's not over by a long way. x


	25. Chapter 25

When John Smith put the phone down in his study, he contemplated briefly indulging himself as he had just indulged Juliana. The others were upstairs after all, and his erection practically demanded he attend to it, but the clock ticked with domestic familiarity on the mantelpiece and a photo of his parents smiled down at him. He reached instead for some work.  

When he finally went up, he washed, changed into his pajamas and slipped into bed as quietly as he could, but Helen stirred. He felt her turn towards him but he didn’t look.

‘Is everything alright?’ she said. ‘It’s late.’

‘Yes, it’s all fine. Go back to sleep.’

‘I haven’t been asleep.’

Her hand came to rest on his waist and started to curl around him. ‘Are you ok?’

‘Of course.’

‘I mean … are you tired?’ She began caressing him in slow circles.

It was almost panic that took hold. He swallowed hard. _Perhaps_ _you_ _should_ …

John turned onto his back and glanced over at his wife. ‘Aren’t you?’

She smiled, that soft smile which he had always craved but had nearly forgotten recently. Guilt mingled with the panic and he wanted it to go. He let her hand slide lower and felt her move up to kiss him.

Her kiss was tentative, as it had been many years ago, but all he could think was that it was not someone else’s kiss. Now it was too soft, too passive.

But he _should_ …

His wife’s hand slipped lower and he imagined it was another’s hand and the remnant of his earlier desire reared its head sufficiently. He kept his eyes closed - dark eyes and dark hair swam before his vision.

‘It’s been a while, John,’ Helen murmured.

_He should._

He rolled over to lie atop her and she gave a smile of encouragement.

‘I almost thought you’d forgotten how,’ she said, half in tease.

He replied by kissing her, not wanting to talk, and was soon hard enough to push into her. Familiar, but not. The right person, but the wrong.

John moved inside her regimentally, as had been the way for some time, he could only admit. She had grown used to it, she seemed to like it. He would reach down and find her with his fingers and ease her way to orgasm. He did so now, and she held onto his back and came quietly as she always did, unwilling to reveal her pleasure too starkly.

How different.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut and pictured someone else and hated himself for it.

John came weakly and silently and guilt squeezed viciously.

Guilt for Helen, for Juliana, for the whole fucking mess of it.

He rolled off her quickly and lay staring above him.

Helen turned and kissed his shoulder. ‘It’s been so long. That was nice.’

_Was it?_

‘Thank you,’ was all he managed.

‘Are you really alright? Has something happened?’

‘No, just busy as always. I’m sorry I’ve been … I’m sorry. We should sleep.’

And after he’d washed, he crept back to bed and turned away from her.

He had told Juliana he didn’t sleep with his wife.

For a man for whom lying was second nature, this one hurt like hell.

\--xoOox--

Work occupied Juliana for the next day or so. There were no more telephone calls and no more summons to the office on the upper floor.

Life in the accounts department was remarkably mundane. Any thoughts of gleaning information about the Reich and helping plot its downfall seemed distant. The information she handled was non-contentious and predictable. She may as well have been filing bills for the Five and Dime. She suspected she could dig deeper if she so wished, but she’d been distracted from it.

That worried Juliana. Not the adultery, not the sex with the most highly-ranked Nazi in America, but the lack of outrage she now felt. She had gently accepted her life as it was within the GNR. Was she being as brainwashed by the system as everyone else?

Perhaps this was John’s great plan – to woo her into Nazi acceptance with cunnilingus and pillow talk.

She bristled. Anger rose in her. Hatred of the GNR. Resentment of him. As she sat alone, reminded of her situation, the rage was familiar and reassuring.

She was seeing Erich tomorrow. He wasn’t John. He was nice, as she had told herself so often.

She told herself that she should look forward to it.

She managed to forget that he too was a Nazi.

\--xoOox--

She arrived at the movie theatre before Erich. She had dressed demurely, but noticed that the dress she chose highlighted her figure more than perhaps it should. He arrived at sixteen minutes to seven, wearing a dark blue suit which brought out the light in his eyes. Erich paced towards her, tugging down his jacket – he was nervous – and with a shy grin on his face.

‘Julia, good evening. I was worried I’d be late, I do apologize.’

‘Well, you’re not late, so there’s no need to apologize.’

He smiled softly and a faint blush caught his cheeks. ‘I bought the tickets earlier, we can go straight in.’

‘That’s very organized of you.’

‘Well, working for Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith makes that essential.’

‘Is he a hard task master?’

‘He keeps me on my toes, but he’s a very good man.’

_A good man_. How strange to hear him described like that. Could she agree?

‘He loves his children very much,’ she heard herself saying.

‘And his wife,’ he added.

Something hurt inside her momentarily.

‘He’s devoted to them,’ continued Erich. ‘That’s the main thing I admire about him. The business with Thomas must have been very disturbing for him.’

‘Business with Thomas?’ She could play ignorant.

‘There was an … administrative error … it’s …’ He lowered his head. ‘I shouldn’t say.’

‘That’s fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

He smiled softly and held his hand out to usher the way. ‘Shall we?’

She walked in with him just a little way behind.

The movie was exquisitely shot, but nausea rose in Juliana at the Nazi propaganda thinly disguised as a love story between a young soldier and the daughter of a sheep farmer. The farmer ended up dead because he’d tried to marry his daughter off to the mad son of another farmer. The son, it transpired, was half gypsy.

Erich remained a respectable distance from Juliana at all times. Never once did he lean closer, and when his leg brushed hers inadvertently at one point, he apologized profusely and shifted across in his seat.

‘It’s okay,’ she whispered back. ‘Really.’ He smiled at that and the next time it happened did not shift away. She found his reaction curious, no more.

They left the theatre and strolled back along the street.

‘So, what did you think?’ he asked.

‘She’s a brilliant cinematographer.’

‘She is indeed. Remarkable artistry.’

‘I didn’t think much of the story, I have to say.’

‘Oh?’

She smirked. ‘Maybe I’m a bit too jaded for romance.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘On screen, I mean. And, you, Erich … I take it you’re not jaded for romance?’

He laughed out in embarrassment. ‘I hope not. Although sometimes I find it hard to fit it in. The Ober-‘

‘The Oberst-Gruppenführer again,’ she interrupted. ‘You should have time for other things. Why don’t you talk to him about it? He respects you, I can tell. He would listen.’

‘I know. But I’m happy to work hard for him. He trusts me and that means a lot. And … I owe him my life.’

Juliana’s curiosity pricked. ‘Oh?’

‘A while back, we were ambushed in the car by armed Resistance operatives. I was shot several times – one bullet hit my chest close to my heart.’

She frowned, surprised at the extent of her shock. ‘Oh, Erich, I had no idea.’

‘There’s no reason why you should. John … Oberst-Gruppenführer Smith … he took them on without a second thought. Placed himself in direct danger to shut them down. Just him and a hand gun against them throwing everything they had at us.’

Her heart beat quickened. ‘Surely that was foolish?’

‘Only he would take a risk like that. At one point he was surrounded and out of bullets. I felt so helpless, but I … could barely move.’

As the scene he described played in her mind she struggled to draw breath. She had not known this. She wanted to know. Had John been okay? Had he been terrified? Did he have nightmares about it?

‘What happened?’

‘I somehow managed to pass him my gun.’

‘After you’d been wounded yourself?’

‘Yes. And he eliminated the rest and kept one alive for interrogation. He was remarkable. I’ve never seen someone so calm and determined in the most horrifying situation.’

Her mouth ran dry and her pulse continued its frantic tattoo, but she maintained her calm front. ‘But you gave him your gun. It sounds to me as if he owes his life to you too.’

He blushed and dropped his head. ‘I don’t think of it like that.’

‘But he does?’

‘Perhaps.’

She stared up at him and his integrity shone through. Why had this man chosen the path he had? She was desperate to know.

‘You said you were shot in the chest?’

‘That’s right. I nearly died. It took me a long while to recover.’ The corner of his eye twitched involuntarily as he remembered, she noticed. He was still traumatized.

Instinctively and being the person she was, Juliana reached over and took hold of his hand. ‘It’s all over now.’

‘Yes … he visited me nearly every day, you know.’

‘John?’

‘Yes, the Oberst-Gruppenführer.’

‘Sorry, of course, the Oberst-Gruppenführer. You talk about him so affectionately that I forgot myself.’

‘It doesn’t matter, he’s not here.’ Erich glanced down at her hand and rubbed his thumb over the top. ‘It’s been a pleasant evening, Juliana. May I drive you home?’

She stiffened, but the cool air wafted around her, and the man above her smiled down with such open sincerity that she saw no reason to refuse.

‘Thank you.’

They walked through the park to his parked car. They had dropped hands, but Juliana didn’t move away when he walked close to her.

‘Are you from New York originally?’ she asked.

‘Yes. My parents were German immigrants after the first war, hence the name. They wanted a new life and the Weimar Republic didn’t seem to be delivering. They were strong people. They weathered the anti-German sentiment after the war; it didn’t seem to bother them. It was interesting for them to watch the developments in Germany from over here, I imagine, and to see how Herr Hitler established himself.’

She held back a response. Her disgust would have been too obvious.

‘Did they not want to go back?’ she asked instead.

‘They did consider it. I think it was probably me that prevented that. I’d become an all-American boy.’

He chuckled and turned to her, expecting her to join him in it. She couldn’t. Why hadn’t he stayed an all-American boy? Why hadn’t John Smith? The tragedy of it made tears more likely than laughter.

‘Is that how you’d describe yourself now, Erich?’

He considered her words for a moment, then said, ‘War changes things … and people.’ He looked as if he would say more, but closed his mouth and turned to walk on.

When they reached his car he came to her side to open the door. ‘Thank you,’ she said and allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of his smile and softness of his gaze again before getting in.

He moved to the driver’s side, got in, and started the car down the road.

‘You may wonder why I’m not married,’ he said at length. ‘I’m certainly expected to be by now.’

‘It hadn’t occurred to me. Everyone should live their life at their own pace.’

‘Well … I was engaged, but …’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘… my fiancée was killed in an automobile accident two years ago.’

‘Erich … I’m so very sorry.’

‘Melanie … She was … wonderful. I wasn’t sure I could carry on, but … you have to hold your head up and just put one foot forward every day. The Oberst-Gruppenführer helped me greatly.’

John Smith, again.

‘He seems like something of a guardian angel to you.’

‘I think perhaps he is.’

‘A guardian angel in an SS uniform,’ she muttered, half not expecting it to hear it aloud.

Erich turned to look at her, clear surprise on his face, and she worried she’d been caught out, but he sniffed out a laugh and said, ‘Not the most obvious, I agree.’

‘No.’

_Guardian_ _angel_. She thought about the way they’d worked together to kill the two men in Watseka, the way they worked together in bed … Saved, was that what it was? Being saved with pleasure and desire and need? And all with a man she was supposed to despise. Was that what she was seeking? Salvation through paradox?

She stared from the window as the bright lights of New York glared rhythmically down at her.

Soon enough they reached her neighbourhood.

‘Thank you so much, Erich. I hope you don’t have far to get back.’

‘No, only ten minutes or so.’

‘I see. Well … I enjoyed tonight. Thank you.’

She opened the door to get out and he quickly came round and held it for her.

‘I’ll walk you to the door.’

‘There’s no need. It’s right here.’

‘Tonight was wonderful, Julia. I’d … like to see you again … for dinner perhaps?’

Her heart quickened. But the normality of a date had been nice. Getting out had been nice. She could get used to it. Why shouldn’t she? So she said, ‘Yes, I’d like that too.’

He smiled so that his teeth gleamed in the street lights. ‘Good night then.’

‘Good night.’

Erich hesitated, not leaving.

‘May I … may I kiss you, Julia?’

He asked the question like a little boy in the sandpit. It made her smile. But she didn’t want him to kiss her, not because she objected to him, but objected to him not being John. She suddenly and painfully wanted John to kiss her, those deep, hard kisses which bruised her lips and seared her very self.

But she was too kind, and so she nodded gently. Erich bent forward slowly, but just as he approached, she turned her head so that his lips could only catch her cheek.

He drew back, unable to meet her eyes from the disappointment, but smiled nonetheless.

‘Good bye then, Julia.’

‘Good bye, Erich.’

She moved off and didn’t look back while she went into the building. If she had, she would have seen him watching her until she was safely inside.

\--xoOox--

As Juliana walked up the stairs in the block, she rubbed her cheek where a faint dampness from his lips lingered. She wondered if she should have let him kiss her mouth, whether she would have liked it, but a struggle to find her key in her bag made her soon forget to wonder.  

She unlocked her apartment door and pushed it open. The darkness was welcoming and she didn’t bother to switch the lights on. Kicking off her shoes, she walked through, running her fingers through her hair and enjoying the tingles to her scalp as she regained her solitude and her self.

‘How was the movie?’

Juliana jumped with a gasp as she spun to the voice.

Sitting in a chair at the table, silhouetted against the half-light from the window, was John Smith. The shock hit her as if she’d been punched.

‘You bastard. You fucking bastard. What the hell are you doing?’

He sat with his right leg resting over his left, his hands clasped in his lap. He flicked his thumbs up insouciantly. ‘Sitting here waiting.’

She stood her ground, her breath rapid with the lingering shock. How fucking dare he invade her privacy? How fucking dare _he_ choose? ‘You’re trespassing, John.’

He was unperturbed. ‘This property belongs to the GNR. I have every right to be here.’

‘You son-of-a-bitch. Get out.’

He said nothing. He didn’t move, just looked up at her steadily. Even in the dimness she could still feel the depth of his gaze.

She crossed her arms, her heart rate settling slowly. She smelt that aroma which had wrapped its way around her on their road trip. ‘What if I hadn’t come back in alone?’

‘You were alone. I watched from the window.’

Her fingers coiled into fists at his presumption and arrogance. ‘You can’t do this to me.’

He pouted but said nothing. He was wearing a plain white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. She noted his broad shoulders, relaxed but full of purpose.

‘Why?’ she said.

‘Curiosity perhaps.’

‘Jealousy,’ she prompted, daring him.

He gave a slight shrug. ‘I haven’t seen you in a while.’

‘And?’

‘I wanted to see you. Tonight was an opportunity.’

She stood silently, staring down at him.

‘Did you enjoy your date?’ he said, looking up at her, almost mocking. She could strike him. She wanted to.

‘He talked about you a lot. He said you saved his life.’

Smith sniffed out in response but said nothing.

‘This is crazy, you know it is.’ Juliana’s mind throbbed with confliction.

‘You told me to get out. If you want me to, I will.’

She looked down. He sat implacably, his leg still crossed over, his hands still resting in his lap, fingers threaded, but his chest rose and fell more rapidly than it should for a man of calm imperturbability, and his eyes did not waiver from hers. _Dreadfully_ _handsome_.

She hated him for it in that moment, but here he was, living and heady and real in her apartment. The shock at finding him had lingered but changed, morphed into something familiar and necessary, settling deep inside her where it poked and squirmed, craving her to feed it.

And it was dark. And, at this moment, Juliana Crain didn’t want to be alone.

She took a step towards him. It seemed to take him aback at first as she saw his eyes flare. Had he really been expecting her to shut him out? The thought gave her a rush of satisfaction.

She took a moment for him to doubt. In his restrained confusion, he sat up and uncrossed his legs.

And after a moment more to deepen his bewilderment, she stepped in again, placing her legs on either side of his, straddling him, then lowering herself slowly to sit astride him.

He tried to stifle his breath of pleasure, but she heard it nonetheless.

She didn’t touch him for a while, simply sat there and stared into him. He stared back and she clenched her hips so that her sex caught against his thighs. She did it for her, not him, but she knew it would make him hard.

Juliana brought her left hand to his shoulder and her right to his pants. She undid the button and the zipper as slowly as she dared and reached into his trunks. She was right, he had stiffened already and, still not breaking eye contact, she gripped and stroked him so that the shaft grew desperately rigid and he leaked onto her hand.

Still he said nothing, but his Adam’s apple lurched and his eyelids struggled not to grow heavy.

Juliana pushed herself up and stepped back momentarily to roll off her underwear, then, pulling up her dress, she straddled him again, braced herself on his shoulder with one hand, and, sinking down, she guided his erect cock inside her.

For a time he just let her work on him, rolling her body, milking his cock. Like this, he sat so perfectly inside her that she nearly let a climax take her quickly, but she slowed, wanting it to last, wanting to feel every ridge and vein of him as she fucked him.

As her pace slackened he reached up and took hold of her dress. He tried briefly to undo the buttons, but it was futile and instead he gripped the material with a grunt and ripped it apart. His hands were on her breasts in the next instant, guiding them out of the bra cups, holding, squeezing, rubbing his thumbs over the nipples so that her head fell back and she bit her lip so hard it pained.

John buried his head in her neck and she held him there, still rolling on him, still holding him deep inside her, so deep it almost hurt, but she loved it.

He had her nipples between his forefingers and thumbs. He squeezed. It wasn’t enough.

‘Harder.’

He glanced up. Her head fell back again and her eyes closed. ‘Harder,’ she demanded. ‘Hurt me.’

He pinched and a shot of pain dashed through her. She gasped in. ‘More. I said hurt me.’

He twisted, and she slowed her fucking to absorb the sensation.

Throwing her head back down, she met his eyes again, holding her breath as she reconciled the shift from pain to pleasure. ‘Oh God, that’s good, oh God, John, that’s so good.’ The pain changed from a biting red to an enclosing glow which rolled down to her stretched pussy, crammed full of his cock.

He relaxed his grip but still held onto her breasts and continued to catch the nipples.

‘Fuck me,’ he said. ‘Don’t stop fucking me.’

She built up her rhythm again, bucking on him, gripping him so tightly he would feel every pulse of her.

Juliana clung hard to his shoulders but he barely winced. He dropped his gaze to stare at where she rose and fell along him.

‘Fuck … fuck, Juliana!’

John came so forcefully she would later find the deepest bruises on her breasts and back where his fingers had gripped her. He grunted in time with his come bursting from him over and again, then could only close his eyes as she continued to ride him to her own climax. It didn’t take long; the sound of his abandon was too perfect a catalyst.

She nudged herself forward to catch her clit each time and held herself on the edge. She gloried in that perfect anticipation before it took her, but then she dragged herself up his cock and it happened.

‘Oh God!’ It hit her. Sitting upright as she was, her come was powerful and long, and she could only stare open-mouthed as it tore through her with such force she was momentarily paralysed.

She didn’t move afterwards but sat astride him, still held on his cock, and breathed out her amazement.

At length she turned her gaze down to him, and with no hesitation, lowered her head and kissed him. They kissed for so long that he softened and fell from her without either noticing. They kissed for so long that one day became another. They kissed until their lips were bruised and swollen but it was still not enough.

And when they finally parted, when her legs at last protested their splayed position across his thighs, Juliana stood up, took his hand in hers, and led him into her bedroom where they stayed until dawn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter. 
> 
> So there. 
> 
> Lots of love from me. More soon. xx


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait on this. Life etc ...

They slept together, and truly slept. Juliana woke before him.

She turned her head to look up at him. The street lights shone in, half-illuminating his face. He looked younger in sleep and his long eyelashes dusted the fragile skin under his eyes.

She wanted to touch his eyelashes so much it hurt. In sleep, the appearance of youthful naivety was restored, and she felt a wave of forgiveness and empathy which almost made her cry.

How had this man come to the situation he was now in?

She couldn’t resist reaching up and pressing her lips to his cheekbone. At this, John inhaled deeply and stirred, his eyes slowly blinking open.

He looked at her and immediately his hand moved to stroke her hair. The veil of innocence remained for a time and she leant over to plant the softest kiss on his mouth before lying down on his chest.

‘I woke you. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s alright,’ he sighed. ‘I have to get back soon. What time is it?’

He reached for his watch but she already knew. ‘It’s just after five.’

John sighed once more and any attempt at energy deserted him as he sank down into the bed again. ‘I have a while.’

‘No, don’t hurry, I like this,’ she said. It was the simple truth.

‘What?’

‘Lying here with you.’

‘So do I.’ He kissed the top of her head and drew his arm in tighter around her.

They lay quietly for some time before Juliana said, ‘But I should have kicked you out last night, you presumptuous son-of-a-bitch.’

‘But then we wouldn’t have this.’

‘No. And that’s why I didn’t.’ She paused briefly. ‘What reason did you give for being away?’

‘Work. It’s not a difficult one, but I can’t use it as often as I’d like.’

‘ _Would_ you like?’

He met her gaze while still stroking her arm. ‘Yes.’

They kissed again before she lay back, enjoying the warm firmness of his body.

Silence encroached for a time and in it she felt able to say, ‘Tell me about the ambush … when Erich was shot.’ She had wondered since Raeder mentioned it the night before, and she hoped now John would talk.

He inhaled deeply and she was aware of a slight tension, but still he ran his hand along her arm.

‘We turned up a street. The Resistance blocked our way and started firing on us. That’s it.’

‘Do you not want to talk about it?’

‘I don’t mind talking about it … but it’s over now.’

She shouldn’t press him, but curiosity got the better of her. ‘Were you scared?’

‘Perhaps at first. But more determined, I guess. I thought Erich would die and that made me angry.’

‘So you were the only one firing?’

‘Yes. My driver was killed, Erich was incapacitated. I had no choice.’

‘How many of them were there?’

‘Four, perhaps more.’

‘And you dealt with them all?’

‘Eventually.’

‘Just with a handgun?’

‘Two. Erich was able to get his to me.’

‘You must be a good shot.’

‘I’ve had a lot of practise.’ He spoke factually, no more.

At this she tensed but found herself undeterred. ‘A lot?’ Juliana met his eyes.

‘Yes … a lot.’ He didn’t look away.

‘How does it feel when you shoot someone dead?’ She stared into him, wanting to read the truth in his face as well as hear it in his voice.

‘Why are you asking? You know, Juliana.’

‘I know how it feels for me. I’m asking how it feels for _you_.’

He paused and she wondered if he would answer, but then he said quite plainly, ‘It feels like I’m doing my job.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Yes, that’s all.’

‘Is it always? _Was_ it always? Did you ever have other feelings when you ended someone’s life?’

‘Are you asking me if I enjoy killing people?’

‘Partly.’

He studied her for a time, and she could see the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if he was considering being amused. ‘No, I don’t. Beware of emotions, Juliana. That’s why I can act with efficiency.’ She listened in silence and he continued, ‘You said partly. What’s the other part?’

Juliana pushed herself up and asked with rigid sincerity, ‘Do you feel shame? Do you feel regret?’

He hesitated momentarily and she was glad of it. ‘Not at the time. Like I said … emotions interfere in getting the job done.’

‘But later?’

At first she wondered if she had asked too much, but then he looked at her and said, his voice smooth with integrity, ‘I think you know the answer to that.’

‘Do I?’ she asked softly.

‘I don’t believe you’d be here with me now if you didn’t … Juliana.’

She felt tears prick at her eyes and tried to mask them. John took a gentle hold her head and found her mouth with his and kissed her so beautifully she melted into him.

After what seemed an endless kiss, he moved from her mouth only to stay nuzzling just below her ear.

‘John …’ she murmured, loving the strength of his fingers holding her, loving the warmth of his mouth at her pressure point.

He didn’t stop, and she thought at that moment that the soft pliancy of his mouth was the most comfort and delight she could ever want.

‘I love that … I love …’ she murmured.

He moved and covered her mouth with his again.

When he drew back, she held his eyes and declared, ‘I can’t stop wanting you. Why? This is crazy, this is madness.’

‘I know.’

‘You make me question everything I thought I knew. You make me question it all.’

‘No, Juliana … I’m not the question … I’m the answer.’

And he moved on top of her and stared down, and she searched his eyes, wanting to be angry, wanting to hate his dismantling of her. But she saw only open truth in them and she knew.

He was hard and ready but didn’t move to enter her. He gave her time to make sense of it all. In the midst of the spark in his eyes she saw it – the conflict: the uncertainty and doubt. That was what united them – the bonding paradox, the struggle to make it all right when everything was working against you, when none of it actually made sense.

His conflict was hers. His doubt was hers. He worked through it his way, but here and now there was no difference between them. And that is what the answer was. He was right. But it wasn’t just him, it was them. The two of them together were the answer.

‘Yes,’ she whispered and opened her legs for him. He brought his hand down to move himself into position and, his eyes still locked with hers, pushed into her.

They made love slowly, never looking away. Each push and stroke given by him was absorbed by her, symbiotic and cohesive. They came together in near silence.

Even then, after their reaffirmation of complicity, the urgency to get up was lacking.

John lay back and Juliana curled around him again.

‘So … Erich,’ he said.

His jealous curiosity was both amusing and aggravating. ‘You really want to know, don’t you?’

He sniffed out, a slight ticking off of himself. ‘I guess I do if I’m asking.’

She sighed out as she thought it through. ‘He’s nice. He’s polite and considerate. You don’t need me to tell you that.’

He paused before his next question, belying his qualms at his own enquiries. ‘But you didn’t want to invite him in?’

Aggravation was now taking firmer hold in Juliana. ‘John … it’s none of your business.’

‘No … it’s not.’

‘I’m here, in bed with you. And you’re married. Remember what you said … everything needs to appear normal.’

‘Normal could mean more dates.’

‘Maybe.’

He hesitated again but still then said, ‘It could mean sex.’

Juliana this time was forcefully riled and sat up, tight with irritation. ‘John … what the hell? I don’t know what the hell to say.’

‘Do you want to?’

‘What? Fuck him? Is that what you want to know? Is that what you want me to tell you or deny or whatever? I’ve been on one date with the guy! He suggested we go for dinner next and I haven’t said no. I’m not going to leap into bed with him because I don’t know him … but, you know what … if I wanted to, I damn well would.’

She pushed herself up and headed for the bathroom.

‘Juliana … don’t overreact. You’re right.’

She turned back, throwing her arms out in frustration verging on fury. His jealousy was no longer endearing but pathetic. ‘Like I said … this is all so totally fucked up. I’m supposedly single. Fucking hell, I _am_ fucking single! I’m supposed to hardly know you. I mean, so fucking what if I go on a few dates? And most significantly of all, you’re married! I know you’re not sleeping with your wife, but that doesn’t mean that …’

He turned his gaze away suddenly. Something about his expression made her stomach turn.

‘That …’ she repeated absent-mindedly.

He still wouldn’t look at her.

‘What?’ she asked, her blood racing. He said nothing. It was obvious. ‘You slept with her.’

He at last raised his eyebrows in resigned admission. ‘She’s my wife, Juliana.’

Surprisingly, infuriatingly, it hurt like hell. ‘You told me you didn’t.’

‘I hadn’t for a long while at that point.’

‘Didn’t take long though.’

‘I … felt I had to.’ He paused, then added, ‘I didn’t enjoy it.’

She was enraged. ‘Shut up! Don’t give me that bullshit. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know any of it.’

‘I’m sorry.’

His apology only fuelled her fire. ‘For fuck’s sake, John, you’re right, she’s your wife. I don’t care if you sleep with her. I don’t care if you’re a husband to her … What I fucking hate is you lying to me and then acting so fucking jealous over one fucking date with some random guy.’

‘He’s not a random guy … and I wasn’t lying when I told you.’

His need – his assumption even – to justify himself made anger burn hotter than ever. ‘You know what, John? I don’t fucking care. It’s gone to your head, hasn’t it? The power. You’re so used to intimidating anyone into getting exactly what you want that it wouldn’t even occur to you that someone might just say no.’

Now his expression did twist out of that implacable look of control he had perfected so well. He grimaced at her assertion. ‘ _What_?’

‘Me, Helen, Erich … we’re all just pawns in your game, moving exactly where you want to place us.’

He threw himself from the bed and paced over to her. His height and rigid anger intimidated her but she didn’t fear him. She held herself tall.

‘Is that how you see me? After all this, Juliana? _After_ _all_ _this_?’

They stared into each other and she considered ending it there, grabbing for the gun in the drawer and ridding the world of him now. But instead she stared into him and saw it again, that open transparency he revealed so rarely.

‘Remember what the answer is, Juliana.’

She shut her eyes against the truth of it; it hurt too much. Juliana dragged her hands down her face, trying to wipe out the pain.

‘Jesus Christ, this is ridiculous,’ she sighed, her anger dissipating. ‘One minute we’re lying together like childhood sweethearts, the next we’re at each other’s throats …’

She felt the tension leaving him too as he added, ‘Yeah, well … Is that so ridiculous?’

‘It is for us.’

‘Why for us?’

She glanced up. ‘Because it makes it all feel so … normal. So fucking real.’

‘And it’s not real?’

‘No. Isn’t that why we’re doing it? Because it’s apart from reality?’

He stood, staring at the floor.  ‘I thought you said there was no us. But you just said it then – ‘It is for us’ you said.’

‘Jesus, John, don’t make it worse. I don’t like fighting with you.’

He sniffed out. ‘You sound like my …’

‘Your what?’

‘Nothing.’ He sighed. ‘I’m sorry I asked about Erich. You’re right – it’s none of my business and you can do what the hell you want. I just …’ He shrugged.

Juliana took a step towards him, her arms still crossed, and lifted her gaze cautiously. ‘Maybe I like that you’re jealous. I shouldn’t admit to it, I probably shouldn’t tell you … but I do. But …’

‘What?’

‘I want you to know that nothing I do with him means anything different for us.’

‘That word again.’

She offered a soft smile. ‘That word again.’

John stepped forward, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. There was a determination in him which enthralled her but contained an edge which was equally disturbing. But that she liked also: the paradox, the contradiction. Juliana could only admit: she thrived on it.

‘And I want you to know that nothing I do with her means anything different for us,’ he murmured.

‘Don’t say it. Don’t say it out loud.’

‘Why not?’

‘No. Just kiss,’ she said and pulled him down again.

‘Does that make you forget?’

‘Does what make me forget?’

‘Kisses … and the other.’

‘Perhaps it does,’ she answered.

‘On the road trip we talked a lot. That’s how it started. Talking.’

‘How what started?’

‘Us.’

‘We’ve talked a lot now,’ she smiled.

‘Uh huh. Let’s redress the balance.’

And with that he took hold of her by the shoulders, pushed her against the wall, and thrust high and deep into her. Juliana gasped with the shock of it, but welcomed him with immediate desire.

He moved forcefully, with a brutal grunting insistence she found herself craving. His fingers gripped her painfully, and he would later explain the scratches on his back as a misadventure in the yard.

John came first, but her own orgasm gripped hard as guttural moans heaved from him as each spurt of his seed pooled high within her.

Once again, for now, they had the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talk ... and a bit of the other. 
> 
> All vital stuff, I hope. Let me know your thoughts. 
> 
> LL x
> 
> (And - squeeee! - Season 3 is just around the corner!)


End file.
